an ethnography of marine convoys during world war ii

AN ETHNOGRAPHY
OF
MARINE CONVOYS
DURING
WORLD WAR II
by
MORGIANA P. HALLEY,
B. A. (U.C.L.A., 1967), M. A. (M.U.N., 1989)
Department of English Language and Linguistics
The University of Sheffield
October 1995
©
AN ETHNOGRAPHY OF MARINE CONVOYS
OF
WORLD WAR II
ABSTRACT
This study is an ethnographic exploration of the experiences of those
who sailed in marine convoys during World War II, based on extensive field
interviews in North America and Britain. The introduction, relating the
background and original intentions of the research, is followed by a
methodology, including sections on bibliographical sources, fieldwork,
analysis and presentation. There follows an outline history of the convoy
system and some of its practical aspects in the twentieth century, drawing
primarily from printed sources, while field interview data are extensively
exploited to investigate the individual‟s view of the convoy experience,
emphasising such essential duties as position-keeping and shipboard
conditions as they affected both officers and uncertificated crew members.
Reasons for going to sea and leaving the sea are explored, as well as major
impressions of shipboard life, convoys, and the war at sea, including an
exegesis of why certain men preferred certain watches.
Attitudes, perceptions, and relationships are then considered, using
bibliographical sources as background, but drawing largely from field
interviews. Relationships between merchant and military personnel, shipboard
departments, officers and ratings, and between seafarers of differing ethnic,
national and/or racial backgrounds are investigated. Seafarers‟ selfperceptions, both within their closed circle and as members of the larger
society, are scrutinised, together with how they believe themselves to have
been perceived and treated by landsmen.
Recreational pastimes and active genres of folklore are examined. The
former range from reading and conversation to music and crafts, while the
latter involve primarily custom and belief, focussing on initiatory practices.
An extensive glossary augments the chapter on language, which treats
nicknames as well as shipboard terminology and sayings. The concluding
chapter encompasses the findings of the research, a critique, and suggestions
for further exploration. It is followed by the bibliography and appendices.
The study represents merely a beginning of the analysis of the substantial
fieldwork corpus.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FRONTISPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
iii
DEDICATIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
iv
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
vii
CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
1
CHAPTER 2: METHODOLOGY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
15
A. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL SOURCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
15
B. FIELDWORK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
25
C. ANALYSIS AND PRESENTATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
65
CHAPTER 3: THE HISTORY AND PRACTICAL ASPECTS OF CONVOYS . . . . . . . . . .
79
A. THE INDIVIDUAL‟S VIEW OF THE CONVOY EXPERIENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
100
B. POSITION-KEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
129
C. CONDITIONS ABOARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
143
CHAPTER 4: GOING TO SEA, LIFE AT SEA, AND LEAVING THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
A. REASONS FOR GOING TO SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
167
B. MAJOR IMPRESSIONS OF SHIPBOARD LIFE, CONVOYS, AND THE WAR . . . .
223
1. GENERAL CONVOY AND SEAFARING RECOLLECTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
223
A) “LIBERTY SHIPS” AND STRESS DAMAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
229
B) NAVIGATION AND SIGNALLING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2. GENERAL WARTIME MEMORIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
232
238
A)
MEMORABLE LOSSES AND RESCUES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
243
B)
DEFENSIVE DEVICES AND MORE RESCUES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
246
C)
NEAR MISSES AND FALSE ALARMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
248
D)
SENSORY RECOLLECTIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .252
E)
STORMS AT SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
257
3. FAVOURITE WATCHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
259
C. REASONS FOR LEAVING THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
271
CHAPTER 5: SHIPBOARD RELATIONSHIPS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284
A. RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN MERCHANT AND MILITARY PERSONNEL . . . . . . . 292
B. RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN SHIPBOARD DEPARTMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327
C. RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN OFFICERS AND RATINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .345
D. ETHNIC, RACIAL, AND NATIONAL PERCEPTIONS AND RELATIONSHIPS . . . . . 368
CHAPTER 6: PERCEPTIONS AND ATTITUDES OF AND ABOUT SEAFARERS . . . . . . . 409
A. ATTITUDES, PERCEPTIONS AND BIASES OF SEAMEN ASEA AND ASHORE . . . 413
B. SHORESIDE ATTITUDES, PERCEPTIONS AND PREJUDICES TOWARD SEAFARERS .
459
CHAPTER 7: RECREATIONAL PASTIMES AND FOLKLORE ABOARD SHIP . . . . . . . . 490
A. RECREATIONAL PASTIMES OF SEAMEN AFLOAT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
492
B. “GENERIC FOLKLORE” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
525
1. SUPERSTITIONS, BELIEFS AND LUCK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 525
2. OMENS, PREMONITIONS, AND GHOSTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
549
3. CHARMS, AMULETS, TATTOOING AND EARRINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
559
C. LINE-CROSSING CEREMONIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .566
D. FOOLS‟ ERRANDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
593
CHAPTER 8: SEAFARING LANGUAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .617
A. GLOSSARY OF GENERAL TERMINOLOGY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
624
B. “PROVERBIAL COMPARISONS AND OTHER SAYINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 652
LIST OF SAYINGS AND PROVERBIAL COMPARISONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
C. NICKNAMES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
656
659
LIST OF NICKNAMES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
674
CHAPTER 9: CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
688
BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
705
APPENDICES:
A. LIST OF INTERVIEW INFORMANTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ……
722
B. ILLUSTRATIONS, STATISTICS, AND GRAPHS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ………729
FRONTSPIECE
(Image of the statue at the American Merchant Marine Veterans Memorial
in San Pedro, California, USA. Designed by Jasper D'Ambrosi in 1986 and cast by
his sons Marc and Michael D'Ambrosi in 1987. The original image which went on
this page is lost. The statue, depicts one merchant seaman helping another climb a
Jacob‟s ladder during a rescue at sea.)
DEDICATION
TO
MY MOTHER
MADELEINE JANE BEYRLE STEELE, B.A., M. ED.
Her eyes were the colour of the sea in sunlight. Her favourite toast
was: “Men and ships!” Her first beau and the love of her life, who much later
became my stepfather, was a merchant seafarer. It was she who first gave me
an interest in the sea, who read sea stories with me in my early childhood, who
-- after her marriage to Fred Steele -- encouraged my enquiries of him when
we were at the family home together.
It was she who taught me to read and gave me the stimulus to learn,
who encouraged my curiosity and was pleased to use words like “questor” and
“valiant” in reference to me -- words which were inconceivable from mother
to daughter in our generations. My mother gave me the encouragement to stay
at my first University for eight years and come away with my degree in hand,
despite physical and emotional problems which almost stopped me in
midstream. It was my mother‟s unfailing support and encouragement which
took me from a safe and comfortable, albeit unfulfilling existence eighteen
years later and sent me back to pursue a post-graduate degree successfully.
And it was my mother who supported me in my desire to “go the distance” and
crown my academic accomplishments with a Ph.D. despite my age and other
obstacles. Had it not been for her influence in my earlier life, I should never
have had the courage and determination to face three major obstacles en route
to this final goal and to overcome them all.
When she heard of my intention to do an ethnographic study of
merchant seafarers, her pleasure was manifest, and she gallantly devoted
herself to maintain and support my every effort, although she became
terminally ill before the project was well underweigh, much less completed.
She had from the outset been one of the staunchest supporters of the enterprise
and it was her desire that I continue the fieldwork rather than spend time at her
bedside. Without her assistance, I could never even have begun such a
seemingly Herculean task, and surely never could have completed it. None of
this would have been possible without the financial and personal support
which I received from my mother, even in the last stages of her final illness,
and the emotional strength I drew from her even beyond that time, and no
words can express my debt to her in this regard.
It was a crushing blow when, shortly after I had begun my first
travelling fieldwork, and while she was to all appearances in fine health, she
was unexpectedly diagnosed with terminal cancer. I continued to work, as she
urged me to do, and was half a continent away, just finishing the North
American interviews, when she finally succumbed to her illness and died. I
lost my firmest supporter, my best friend, my most conscientious critic, and
my major source of financial aid with one blow. That she was my female
progenitor is of no consequence. What matters is what she taught me about
sticking with an undertaking until it was finished, regardless of the
circumstances, and the ardour and enthusiasm with which she always inspired
and sustained me.
My deepest regret is that I will not be able to share the celebration of
the accomplishment with her in a physical form. How many times during the
entire adventure -- for adventure it has been -- I have longed to share with her
the thrill of unexpected moments of enlightenment. I know she has been with
me every step of the way and I know that she is with me now, and if I could
say one thing to her at this moment, it would be:
Thanks Mum, it‟s all your fault!
She‟d get a laugh out of that. I can almost hear her now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IN MEMORIAM
In the final stages of my writing-up period, I received word of the death
of a good friend and respected colleague, Dr. David Buchan. The loss of his
presence, both personal and professional, will be sadly felt throughout the
academic community. Since it was in one of his classes that the original
embryo of this entire project was born, I feel that my mother would want to
share a little of the limelight with him. Thank you David Buchan. Your
tutelage has not been wasted. If nothing else, you taught me the proper use of
the word “rubric”.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There is no better way to begin my acknowledgements than to
paraphrase Tony Lane: 1
My greatest debt is to the ex-seafarers who talked to me, who
wrote or telephoned in response to questions, and who loaned
or donated items from wartime slop bills to T-shirts with logos
of veteran‟s groups. Without these men and their contributions
I could never have stepped over the threshold into the daily life
of the merchant seafarers‟ war. Their names are listed in an
appendix at the end of this work. A number of their wives were
also of great assistance, by taking part in the interviews
themselves, expediting matters generally, or simply by making
me welcome in their homes. Most of these gracious ladies are
not mentioned by name. Additional thanks go to those
informants and academic colleagues who exceeded my requests
for information by also providing meals, transport, additional
references and ephemera, or even temporary accommodation.
My stepfather, Capt. Fred A. Steele, and my best friend, Peter J. Crowther, for
support at times when I most needed and least expected it, not the least of
which support was financial.
My supervisor, Professor John D.A. Widdowson, for support and forbearance
as well as his gracious lady wife and my other colleagues at CECTAL: Mrs.
Beryl Moore, Mrs. Donie Donnelly, Dr. Julia Bishop, Andy Pearce, Robin
Wiltshire, Don Bates (and his seafaring nephew), and Sarah Myers.
The Centre for Cultural Tradition and Language and the Department of
English Language and Linguistics at the University of Sheffield, for providing
two hundred pounds toward financing the transportation for my British
fieldwork and being supportive in other ways too numerous to mention.
My ever-vigilant proofreaders, Rik Barnes, Kenneth Killiany, and Patrick
Smith; Patricia Blauvelt and her husband, Don, who got me properly installed
on the Internet; my ftp tutor, Mark Poole, who also did the graphic scans for
the appendices and most of the “tables”; M.J. Richardson, who created the
frontispiece I wanted to see; and my colleague at CECTAL, Vanessa Toulmin,
who actually submitted the manuscript for me.
E.J. Heins, Jr. and the US Merchant Marine Veterans of World War II in south
Carolina, who donated a jacket which I have worn proudly throughout the
research period and a hundred-dollar cheque with which I was able to purchase
essential bibliographical reference material.
Dr. D. Robert W. Holton and Dr. Andrew Aitchison for accommodating me in
their homes during the British fieldwork.
1
. Lane, Tony, The Merchant Seaman‟s War, (Manchester: Manchester University
Press, 1990), vii.
Tony Lane, Dr. Don Willett and Dr. Mike Gillen for allowing me access to
their own work, providing me with invaluable resources, and perhaps most of
all giving me the opportunity to talk briefly with people who understood both
the vocabularies from which I drew -- the working maritime and the academic
simultaneously.
The staff of Computing Services and the Information Technology Centre at the
University of „Sheffield, especially Glynis Hulme, C.J. Lamb, and Gillian
Smith.
Innumerable groups and individuals without whose support, encouragement,
and active assistance I never could have succeeded include: The American
Folklore Society Occupational Group (especially Mia Boynton and Bruce
Nickerson); the SIU Harry Lundeberg School of Seamanship and the SIU
SEAFARERS‟ LOG (especially Jessica Smith and Jeanne Textor); Wendy Steele;
the staff, officers and watchstanders of the S/S Jeremiah O'Brien and the S/S
Lane Victory; the San Francisco office of the SUP; RMT Shipping Grade
newspaper THE SEAMAN, and its editor, Jim Jump; Sailors‟ Snug Harbor, Sea
Level NC; the Royal Naval Association, Belfast, Northern Ireland; Frank
Braynard of the American Merchant Marine Museum, and the American
Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, NY; the California Maritime
Academy; the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic, Halifax, Nova Scotia; the
War Memorial Museum of VA; the American Merchant Marine Veterans
Association, particularly the Desert Mariners and Southwest Regional
Headquarters in Fort Apache AZ (John Forsberg) and the Road Runners
Chapter in Albuquerque NM (especially Marty Hrivnak); the Combat
Merchant Mariners of World War II (Kermit Haber); the United States
Merchant Marine Veterans of World War II and THE ANCHOR LIGHT; the San
Diego Maritime Museum (especially Craig Arnold and Win Bagley), Bob
Madison and his colleagues at the U.S. Naval Academy and the Naval
Historical Center; Rory O‟Connell of the Imperial War Museum; Karl Kortum
and Ted Miles of the National Maritime Museum in San Francisco; C. A.
Lloyd and the Navy Armed Guard Veterans Club; Tim Rizzuto, curator of USS
Kidd; Annie Dodds and Maureen Devlin of October Films; Capts. Nick
Barbara; Dick Connelly, Frank Ford, Stephen Ford, Gene Harrower, Harold
Huycke, and Arthur Moore; the late Mr. Charles Chodzko, Kenny and
Rochelle Goldstein, Archie Green, Sandy and Bobby Ives, Douglas Jones,
Joanne Knight, Tom Lewis, Ian Millar, Gerard Mittelstaedt, Robby Owen,
Anne Phillips, Simon Rae, and Alan Smith. A number of people who were
instrumental in retrieving lost references for me deserve special mention:
Bradley Creevey, Richard W. Collins, G.L. Glossop, Anne Lee, Christopher
Lee, Stephen Liscoe, Espen Ore, Ian Oxley, Nicholas White, “Sean”, and
“Tony”.
And last, but assuredly not least, seven people whose kindness and friendship
saw me through the darkest hours. The order is alphabetical: Ian Chard, Aden
Clark, Amanda Evans, Eldon Hallam, Keshav Langlois, Darren Moore, Keith
Saunders and Adrian St. John.
To any whom I may have overlooked, I tender my deepest
apologies. It is difficult to recall all those who have been so generous
and helpful over the time and space involved in such a venture. If I
have left you out, I did not intend to do so, but a faulty memory is my
only excuse. You know who you are, so thank you too.
CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Man has been building vessels in which to float on the waters of the
earth since before the advent of written history. The National Maritime
Museum series, The Ship, tells us: “From at least Upper Paleolithic times,
c40000 [sic] years ago, waterborne craft have been essential for the
exploration of lake, river and sea, the colonisation of new lands and the
sustainment of trade.”2 Vessels worthy of the term ship, planked craft capable
of navigating offshore waters and making long exploratory or commercial
voyages under sail or rowed by oarsmen, date back to at least the Bronze Age,
if not before3, and waterborne vessels of innumerable varieties are used today
for sport, recreation, commercial, and military purposes.4 Few would deny the
popularity of small boats for recreational pursuits, and several companies have
seen fit to produce T-shirts and other souvenirs bearing an illustration from
Kenneth Grahame‟s The Wind in the Willows showing Rat and Mole in a punt
with the quote:
There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth
doing as simply messing about in boats.5
Man‟s eternal romance with the sea has been noted by writers
throughout the ages and John Masefield‟s poem, “Sea Fever”, has been cited
so often to illustrate this relationship that it has become almost hackneyed.
2
. Sean McGrail, Rafts, Boats and Ships: From Prehistoric Times to the Medieval
Era, vol. 1 of THE SHIP, ed. Basil Greenhill (London: HMSO, 1981), 5.
3
. McGrail, 15.
4
. "The ease of travel and safety of sea carriage quickly made the ship the chief
means for transporting people and goods over great distances. By 3000 B.C. many ports had
been established to handle the ever increasing trade. Aided by the growing hazards of land
travel, sea travel continued to grow." Craig J. Forsyth, The American Merchant Seaman and
His Industry: Struggle and Stigma (New York et al: Taylor and Francis, 1989), 90.
5
. J.M. Cohen and M.J. Cohen, The Penguin Dictionary of Quotations (London:
Jonathan Cape, 1960), p. 175, #9, [from Kenneth Grahame 1859-1932, The Wind in the
Willows, chapter 1.]
Other verses better exemplify the feelings of the modern seafarer for his
career, his vessel, and/or the sea itself. The line “dirty British coaster with a
salt-caked smokestack”, from another of Masefield‟s works, “Cargoes”,6 is
more likely to put a lump in the throat of a twentieth-century seafarer or bring
a sentimental tear to the eye of his wife. C. Fox Smith‟s “Merchantmen” and
some of Kipling‟s works, including “The Liner She‟s a Lady” and “Such as in
Ships” also appeal to the emotions of the modern merchant mariner. Simply
attributed to “H.G.”, the poem “Sold for Scrap” was found on the unnumbered
final page of Alex Aiken‟s book, In Time of War. The text of its last verse,
given here, would be a certain “tear-jerker” at any gathering of those with
contemporary maritime connections:
For they will come with vicious tool,
Scarce waiting for my guts to cool;
And they will rip my plates apart,
And they will break my hull and heart:
When falls my stack then falls my pride,
No more I‟ll meet the morning tide;
So bid I farewell to the sea;
There‟s none will ever weep for me.7
Up to the present, if one mentioned “sea lore” to an anglophone
folklorist, the immediate response would be a reference to Horace Beck‟s
Folklore and the Sea. It is of singular interest that he mentions in the
“Epilogue” the fact that all his data were of relatively recent vintage, although
he states:
As one runs over the material in these pages, one becomes
conscious that there is more small-boat lore in it than big-ship
lore ... it has been collected from people connected with smaller
craft. It is popularly thought that the clipper ship was the great
carrier and creator of maritime folklore. This is incorrect.
Clippers may have been excellent conveyances for creating sea
chanties, for the work required it, but the crews were made up
largely of a raggle-taggle bunch of men picked up by fair means
and foul in saloons and gutters in every waterfront slum where
big ships tied up. They were aboard, many of them, for only a
single voyage, and left the ship nearly as ignorant as when they
6
. "Cargoes", John Masefield, The Collected Poems of John Masefield (London:
William Heinemann Ltd., 1923 [1925]), 56.
7
. Alex Aiken, In Time of War (Glasgow: by the author, 1980), [412].
entered her. Further the modern steamship is not much better,
being manned by mechanics with little or no knowledge of the
sea, and less interest in it.8
When one considers the open romanticism and sentimentality of many
not-so-ancient mariners, Beck‟s assertion regarding modern ships‟ personnel
becomes open to question and investigation. Discussing a vessel in which he
had served since her launching, one elderly retired Chief Engineer, who was
interviewed during the fieldwork for this project ,became quite emotional as he
spoke of her sinking in convoy, as if describing the loss of a well-loved
friend.(HMC 92-28, TTC p. 1)9
An inordinate number of writers of seafaring literature past and present
were themselves seafarers at least for a time. Among the best known of these
were Richard Henry Dana, Joseph Conrad, C.S. Forester, and Nicholas
Monsarrat, but numerous others achieved varying levels of popularity.
Present-day mariners evince an interest in such literature by their ability and
willingness to recite verse works such as Coleridge‟s “Rime of the Ancient
Mariner” or Kipling‟s “M‟Andrew‟s Hymn” from rote memory10 and their
general tendency to recommend such reading matter, both prose and poetry, to
anyone with even a passing interest in the subject.11 Some have even cited the
works of authors of maritime fiction for boys, Percy F. Westerman or Howard
Pease, as having influenced their original decisions to make the sea a career.12
Robin Craig noted: “The advent of the cargo-carrying steamship in the
19th century was one of the most important developments in industrial history
8
. Horace Beck, Folklore and the Sea Rpt. 1985 (Mystic, CT: Mystic Seaport
Museum, Incorporated, c1973), 410-411.
9
. These reference numbers will be explained thoroughly in Chapter Two, Section
C.
10
. Personal conversation with Carter Houston and Charles Sauerbier, home of Capt.
and Mrs. Fred A. Steele, Jr., December 1989.
11
. Personal experience, especially with Capt. Fred Anderson Steele, Jr., but also
with a significant number of informants.
12
. Howard Pease [Clinton Johnson, HMC 90-24, TTC p. 1]. Percy F. Westerman
[Richard Playfer, HMC 92-24, TTC p. 1; Capt. Michael Curtis, HMC 92-31, TTC p. 5]. For
an explanation of these reference numbers, see Chapter Two, Section C.
yet it is almost completely neglected by historians.”13 This is indubitably the
case, yet how much more severely neglected has been the history of those who
shipped aboard these vessels? Even quite early on it was remarked that:
Much has been written of ... ship construction,
improvement in life saving apparatus, volume of ... trade ... but
little has been said concerning the marine personnel, without
which[sic] modern construction and marine transportation
would be of little value. The man power[sic] on our ships is the
most important item in the merchant marine industry, and that
man power[sic] is the most neglected of all our social units.14
It was inevitable that the basis for such a study as this one must be
face-to-face interviews with men such as these on both sides of the Atlantic.
Many of those interviewed have made it clear that they feel it crucial that the
historic role of the merchant seafarer during the Second World War be
revealed and described to those who would otherwise remain ignorant of the
vital part he played in the war effort. Recognising the trust placed in me by
those interviewees, one of the primary aims of the present work is to discharge
this obligation.
It is unfortunate that many colleagues in the investigation of
occupational folklife and labourlore denigrate the type of study I have made,
preferring the viewpoint of the social historian to that of the folklorist treating
a collected ethnography. My sole defence in this regard is to say that I hope, in
the words of Archie Green, undisputed master of this style of research, to
“...combine genres into a craft mosaic by pursuing artistry and enactment....”15
In his ground-breaking article, “Is There a Folk in the Factory?”16 Bruce
Nickerson concluded that there was “either a folk in the factory or a group of
13
. Robin Craig, Steam Tramps and Cargo Liners, vol. 5 of THE SHIP, ed. Basil
Greenhill (London: HMSO, 1980), 4.
14
. James C. Healey, Foc‟s‟le and Glory-Hole: A Study of the Merchant Seaman and
his Occupation, rpt. (New York: Greenwood Press, 1969), 3, quoting a 1929 issue of
Merchant Marine Bulletin.
15
. Archie Green, Wobblies, Pile Butts, and Other Heroes (Urbana and Chicago:
University of Illinois Press, 1993), 370.
16
. Bruce E. Nickerson, "Is There a Folk in the Factory?", Journal of American
Folklore 87 (1974), 133-139.
people with many folk-like characteristics.”17 This may be said of modern
merchant shipping as well, for despite Beck‟s allegations, the twentiethcentury merchant seafarer fits Nickerson‟s prototype as well as does the
factory worker. The fact that Nickerson eschewed genre-specificity at the time
of his original article is not insignificant, for it was his lead that encouraged
students of labourlore and occupational folklife to emphasise cultural attitudes
and “face-to-face verbal material”18 such as PENs (Personal Experience
Narratives) in their studies, rather than to seek a specific genre, perhaps one
inappropriate to the particular cultural experience under investigation.
Nonetheless, he, himself, recognised the worth of generic concepts and data
within the broader framework of such an investigation and even stressed the
value of traditional behaviour and custom, with their inherent esoteric/exoteric
factors,19 as subjects for analysis in such a study.20
The sea and its lore have always been personal interests of mine, due in
large part to my background, since many of the men in my family have been
involved in merchant shipping. From my earliest Quaker antecedents in New
Bedford, Massachusetts, to my stepfather, a recently retired deck officer of the
United States Merchant Marine, my family has had seafaring connections.
When I was quite young, my interest was excited by the writings of Howard
Pease, an American author of adventure novels for juvenile (primarily male)
readers, similar to the earlier British writer, Percy F. Westerman. I daydreamed
that I was the female counterpart of his teenage hero, Tod Moran.21 Later I
thought seriously of entering the California Maritime Academy, or some
17
. Nickerson, 134.
. Nickerson, 135.
19
. William Hugh Jansen, "The Esoteric-Exoteric Factor in Folklore," in The Study
of Folklore, ed. Alan Dundes (Englewood Cliffs NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1965), 43-51.
20
. In a personal conversation with Nickerson at the 1988 annual meeting of the
American Folklore Society in Cambridge, Massachusetts, he encouraged me to pursue the
current endeavour, despite the misgivings of some of my contemporary colleagues in
occupational folklife.
21
. See both above, on page 3, and further, in Chapter Four, where several
informants as well have cited the influence of maritime literature and adventure stories for
boys as significant in their decision to go to sea.
18
similar educational institution which would prepare me for life as a deck
officer. That eventuality seemed far more likely than my ever getting accepted
as an ordinary deckhand, since officers had their own quarters and
“unlicensed” crew members in those days usually shared sleeping and living
areas. Life aboard a passenger vessel as, for example, a stewardess or
laundress, held no interest whatsoever for me; it was the cargo tramps I
wanted; but the time had not yet come for maritime academies to open their
doors to females. I am pleased to report that this is no longer the case, and
young women are now accepted into training for all areas of merchant
shipping.
When my mother, a divorcee, re-met and subsequently married her
childhood sweetheart, a deck officer in the American mercantile marine, I
eagerly lapped up all the information possible from listening to his
conversations with her and with his colleagues. One major cause of bitterness
among these men was the fact that, although they had been exposed to mortal
danger during World War II, and had been required to enlist in the U.S. Naval
Reserve, where “honorary” officers‟ ranks had been bestowed upon them, still
they had never been accorded the status of “veterans” nor the associated
privileges.22
In essence, the lowest-ranking military sailor in the United States Navy
would have reaped more lasting benefits from one year of uneventful wartime
military service to his country than would a Master Mariner who had remained
in the Merchant Service, sailed from the beginning of the war to its end, and
been sunk more than once and wounded in action as well. This seemed most
unfair, and the merchant seafarers went to battle for their rightful share of
22
. See immediately below as well as Chapter 5 for comment by American,
Canadian, and British seafarers on this subject.
these rewards, which they nominally gained on 19 January, 1988,23 too late for
most of them to obtain much benefit therefrom.24 It has since been made clear
to me that Canadian merchant seamen had not yet been so recognised at the
time the interviews were being conducted in 1990 and 1991,25 and that the
recognition afforded the British seafarer was inadequate to such an extent that
some disability claims are only now being recognised and processed, some
fifty years after the event.26
During the studies leading to my Master‟s degree, I was assigned a
paper on “Folklore and Group Culture (Occupational).” I chose as my subject
the modern merchant marine, and was warned that there would be little in the
way of primary reference material in print to assist me.27 Feeling this surely
could not be the case, I continued with the project and was desolated to find
such misgivings fully justified. The focus of that paper was an effort to exhibit
the linkages between folklore and culture as generalities through group culture
and group folklore as major categories, specifying the particular group culture
examined as that of an occupational group -- modern merchant mariners. In
order to investigate such connections, it was necessary to explore some
definitive aspects of behaviour.
23
. This date is specified on “Application Instructions for an Armed Forces
Discharge Certificate American Oceangoing Merchant Marine of WWII”, a photocopy of
which document was obtained from Capt. Fred A. Steele, my stepfather, and which document
also bears the rubber stamp identification of Ian A. Millar, President and Founder of The Sons
and Daughter‟s[sic] of U.S. Merchant Mariners of World War II.
24
. Many of these American seafarers have expressed the personal opinion to the
researcher that all they got out of being recognised as veterans of World War II was the right
to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery with military honours. cf. HMC 90-39, TTC p. 1,
remarks by Cliff Rehkopf.
25
. The Canadian Merchant Marine achieved recognition as veterans of World War
II on 1 July 1992, according to Mrs. Doris Cumby of the Department of Veteran‟s Affairs in
St. John‟s, Newfoundland. Capt. Paul Brick (HMC 90-69), Capt. E.S. Wagner (HMC 90-71),
Capt. Thomas Goodyear (HMC 91-4, 91-5, 91-6), Thomas Burton (HMC 91-7, 91-8), Harold
W. Squires (HMC 91-9, TTC pp. 2 and 5), Frank Power (HMC 91-10), Edward Stanley
Hoskins (HMC 91-11), Elbert Coldwell (HMC 91-12).
26
. British Veterans‟ medical benefit claims for merchant mariners were discussed
by Arthur Lee, (HMC 92-48, TTC p.8) amongst others.
27
. David Buchan, personal communication, 1986.
It has been suggested that all shared human behaviour which is not
biological in nature is cultural, as are the products of that behaviour, be they
speech, gestures, artefacts, music, or building techniques, and that grouping
organises society. 28 Seafaring is an occupation which lends itself almost
immediately to such group demarcation for a number of reasons. First, in most
societies it has traditionally been an almost exclusively male vocation.
Further, because of its exploratory aspects and the limits of early technology it
has frequently involved extended periods of dissociation from the participants‟
native lifestyle and from society in general, as well as obligatory introduction
to lifestyles foreign to the participants‟ own and the generation of a shipboard
society to replace the shoreside one for those living aboard over protracted
intervals. In addition, specialised technological understanding is vital to the
seaman, male dominance is traditional, extended periods of isolation from
general society limit social interaction to the occupational group itself, and
exposure to “things foreign” is often necessitated by circumstance. When
these aspects of the occupation are coupled with the hazardous nature, even
today, of water-borne life and work, one can easily see the many lines of
demarcation separating this occupational group from other groups and
enclosing it within itself.29
The basic aim of the group culture paper was to describe and discuss
the cultural pattern of the occupational group studied, with the stress on its
folkloric aspects. This cultural pattern of a group, as described by one social
scientist with a maritime interest, would include: “folkways, mores, laws,
habits, customs, etiquette, fashion, etc., which characterise any social group at
28
. John J. Honigmann, Understanding Culture (Westport CT: Greenwood Press,
1977 [Rpt. of orig. 1963, NY: Harper and Row]), 3 and 64.
29
. Jansen. In this context see also Howard S. Becker, Outsiders: Studies in the
Sociology of Deviance (New York: The Free Press, 1973) and The Other Side: Perspectives on
Deviance (New York: The Free Press (Macmillan)/London: Collier Macmillan, 1964) and
Mariam G. Sherar, Shipping Out: A Sociological Study of the American Merchant Seaman
(Cambridge MD: Cornell Maritime Press, Inc., 1973).
any given moment in history. The fact that these patterns are ever-changing is
of importance in understanding the social position of the seaman.”30
Foreign-going31 sea trade prior to the inception of supertankers and
container ships was distinctive and unique, not only among land-bound
pursuits, as must be apparent, but even with regard to other maritime
occupations, such as fishing, coasting, and, in more recent times, the offshore
oil industry. Liners32 regularly returned to the same harbour, but for a tramp
crew33 the itinerary was often unknown even to the ship‟s Master himself until
the moment of lading an appropriate cargo and receiving the accompanying
paperwork.
Despite the more obvious influences of the predominant occupation of
a community on the lifestyle and general practices of those so employed and
those with whom they have frequent contact, it would appear at first glance
that little is readily available in the way of standard bibliographical material
pertaining directly to the folklore of the modern merchant marine.34 There are,
however, numerous biographies, autobiographies, journals, logs, collections of
letters, and general overviews, both factual and quasi-fictive, in which one
may find relevant data.35 Likewise, an interest in oral history and in the
folkloric and ethnographic aspects of history has recently developed among
30
. Forsyth, 31.
. “Going foreign” or “going deepwater” are terms commonly used by seafarers to
describe long-term employment on lengthy voyages away from one‟s home port and native
country as opposed to “going coastal”, “home trade”, or commercial fishing.
32
. Liner -- Any seagoing general cargo vessel with a previously advertised schedule
of ports of call. She usually carries passengers and mail. The remainder of the cargo is
typically a variety of relatively small lots of valuable commodities. [From Ronald Hope, The
Merchant Navy (London: Stanford Maritime, 1980), 37.]
33
. Tramp -- Any seagoing vessel which moves freely from port to port without a
fixed schedule or route. She is available for hire at prevalent rates and sails wherever the hirer
or charterer desires she should. She primarily carries a single type of cargo at any one time,
and only infrequently carries passengers, because of the uncertainty of her itinerary. A tramp
is usually a standard cargo ship, but the term can also apply to a bulk carrier or tanker. [Hope,
37.]
34
. Horace P. Beck, Folklore and the Sea and Margaret Baker, Folklore of the Sea
(London et al: David and Charles, 1979).
35
. “...sailors...have used diary, log book, poetry, and fiction to narrate their
experience.” (Green, 430.)
31
maritime historians and several books have been published in the recent past
which evince these propensities.36 It is worth noting that most of these latter
sources present their information more contextually than do the early folklore
collections. When a seaman-informant in one of these books, whether actively
working or retired, mentions a belief, custom, or story, it is often presented in
the context of his daily life and work, giving a fuller view of the functions of
these collected items and their relative importance to the people who hold and
transmit them than the dry lists offered by antiquarian scholars. Other
disciplines, such as sociology and labour history37 have recently found the
seafarer of interest, and, even at the present time, efforts are apparently in
progress to further document this lifestyle from a number of differing scholarly
viewpoints.38
As was only natural, one of the first bibliographic investigations of this
study was into Horace Beck‟s Folklore and the Sea, quoted above. When his
astigmatic view of the modern seafarer was compared with a statement by one
of those “mechanics” he had maligned, the following came to light,
demonstrating a marked contrast:
Ships to the seaman are not just things of steel and
machinery. They have definite personalities and each ship he
has served in lives in memory, not as the thing that provided
him with a means of livelihood for a certain period of time but
a sentient entity with a definite personality. There are good
ships and bad (though there are some who say that there is no
such thing as a bad ship but that it is only a question of “the
men that‟s in them”) and all leave their firm imprint on
memory. Cursed though they may be at times of discomfort
and hard work, there are few ships which in retrospect do not
hold pleasing memories. Early in my seafaring years I served in
36
. Justin F. Gleichauf, Unsung Sailors: The Naval Armed Guard in World War II
(Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1990), John M. Waters, Bloody Winter (Annapolis MD:
Naval Institute Press, 1984) and others.
37
. Tony Lane, Grey Dawn Breaking: British Merchant Seafarers in the Late
Twentieth Century (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1986) and The Merchant
Seaman's War (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1990), and Eric W. Sager,
Seafaring Labour: The Merchant Marine of Atlantic Canada 1820-1914 (Montreal: McGill Queen's University Press, 1989).
38
. Academics with whom I spoke, such as Mike Gillen, Eric Sager, Tom Walker,
and Don Willett, indicated that they might be interested in publishing such works in the not so
distant future.
tramp ships, knowing all the discomforts and privations of poor
food and conditions, treatment that left much to be desired, and
monotonous toil under extremes of climatic conditions through
long hours that would stagger a modern industrial worker. Yet
memory holds few of these things. I have only to shut my eyes
and I can smell again the odour of a tramp ship, an odour that is
compounded of such things as stale food, dirty water and
cockroaches in the galley, Stockholm tar, fish oil -- dirty bilges
and the hot greasy smell of winches working under a tropic sun.
Yet these things do not conjure unpleasant memories. That
is part of the magic of the sea. However much they may
impinge upon the senses with anything but pleasing results at
the time there lingers[sic] in memory only the moments that
one longs to recapture....39
Combining contradictory data such as these with what I had learned
from personal experience and contact with seafarers, it occurred to me that the
time was perhaps ripe for a researcher to broach the heretofore pristine field of
chronicling the traditions of modern merchant shipping from the viewpoint of
a folklorist and ethnographer. Vessels of several thousand tons deadweight
capacity with triple-expansion steam engines or diesel turbines could not be as
void of ethnographic and folkloric interest as Beck would have one believe, or
as it might at first glance appear from standing collections; there must be as
much of “a folk” aboard ship as in the factory. I therefore approached Horace
Beck personally, making the effort to travel from Memorial University of
Newfoundland to South Street Seaport Museum in New York City for a
meeting on maritime folklore at which he was to be the keynote speaker.
Knowing that he had a fondness for „Screech‟ -- a brand of black rum
easily available in Newfoundland, but virtually unobtainable in the United
States -- I armed myself with a bottle, and embarked on my quest. After his
speech was finished, I approached him, proffered the gift, which was
graciously received, shook his hand, and explained my situation. I assured
him that there was no personal antipathy in my disagreement with his
opinions, but that, feeling further exploration was indicated, I intended to
39
. J.E. Taylor, Of Ships and Seamen (London: Williams and Norgate, 1949), p. 9.
devote the rest of my professional life to demonstrating their inaccuracy. With
a characteristically sceptical half-grin, he replied gruffly, “Well -- I wish you
luck.” Thus I received sanction for my project from the established scholar
with whom I differed, and the serious work began. With the efforts laid forth
in this study, I have initiated critical folkloric and ethnographic inquiries into
the traditions of modern40 merchant shipping and, if I should become
personally unable to pursue them in greater depth, I hope with this work to
beget in others a similar compulsion to do so.
I have not entered this research with a “thesis”, nor have I emerged
with one. The intent has not been to prove an already constructed hypothesis,41
but to explore the seaman‟s ingenuity and traditional lifestyle within his
occupational framework. An ethnographic human context was the focus and
little consideration was given any area of the seafaring and shipping industry
which did not have to do with the men involved and their lives. This enquiry
was not concerned, for example, with maritime economics, marine
architecture, or naval tactical history, but with the lives of men aboard ships in
merchant convoys during the Second World War. It has been noted that
ethnographic thinking conceives the research process as inductive or
discovery-based, rather than limited to the testing of explicit hypotheses,42 and
I have conformed to that paradigm to the best of my ability.
The foundation of the investigation was the World War II convoy
system on a global basis. The scope was then narrowed, focussing on the
North Atlantic “run”, although individual remarks on events in the Pacific,
Mediterranean, or Arctic theatres of war, or the Indian Ocean, were retained if
their content seemed relevant to the convoy experience in general. The
40
. “Modern” in this case should be taken to mean “since sail was replaced by steam
and motor to drive the majority of vessels engaged in sea-borne commerce.”
41
. Other than the existence of viable folklore aboard modern merchant ships.
42
. Martyn Hammersley, Reading Ethnographic Research: A Critical Guide
(London and New York: Longman, 1990), 8.
intention was to examine the shipboard experience of seafarers in an
ethnographic manner, and the research itself wandered, in an exploratory
sense, through social contexts, in the footsteps of Green and Nickerson,
attempting to exercise their methods for the study of occupational folklife
ashore upon seafarers.
After the experience with Horace Beck as recounted earlier, I had
approached the study with the firm intention of proving only that -- to juggle
Nickerson‟s phrase -- there was indeed “a folk” aboard the merchant ship. In
this collected study of occupational lifestyles and traditions, however, fewer
traditions than lifestyles have been uncovered. This was quite a startling
development, since fisherfolk have been noted for centuries as traditionbearers and the military seafarer has been similarly steeped in tradition. There
are a number of possible reasons for this surprising paucity of traditional lore
aboard merchant vessels and these will be covered in Chapter Seven. The task
has not proven altogether thankless, however, and amongst the sectors that
remained unscathed was my personal favourite, that of fools‟ errands on which
newcomers and “green hands” were sent. A search was undertaken
simultaneously for unusual words and nicknames.
The earliest approach to interactive social material was purely
comparative, the intent being to compare and contrast data from opposite sides
of the Atlantic. It has been possible to accomplish this, although not to as
great a degree or in as great a depth as had been originally foreseen. Perhaps a
somewhat better perspective on this may be obtained by examining the
methodology involved in the study as a whole.
The main thrust of the work evolved from the field research itself. No
one, to the best of my knowledge, had attempted such an ethnological survey
of seafaring on a wide scale. The endeavour, using a social network approach,
facilitated by my family and their friends, veterans‟ groups, and trade unions,
attempted to ask as many people as possible what their experiences had been
aboard ship during the Second World War, especially in the convoy situation.
This involved meeting a broad spectrum of seafarers in face to face interviews,
and using such techniques to “get inside the minds” of those whose first-hand
experience was to be recorded while they were still there to ask. This was
personal testimony and the time element was vital. The numbers of men with
relevant experience were rapidly declining and the interviews had to be
conducted while the subjects were still mentally active and physically capable
of sustaining a prolonged interview situation.
A quite significant amount of archival and bibliographical work was
also imperative, as it was essential to create a firm foundation on which to
ground the data gained in the personal testimonies. The results of this quest
were more secure than were the interview subjects, in that extant publications
and museum collections are less transient than human beings and certainly less
liable to be significantly impaired by advancing age than mere mortals. The
distances between the institutions involved, however, were just as extreme as
those between the homes of the informants, and the need for extensive travel
to reach both the personal and institutional sources was paramount. For this
reason, the following chapter includes a lengthy and detailed itinerary of the
active fieldwork, culled from my field journal. This reveals the total number
of people potentially and actually interviewable whose personal testimony
forms the basis of the detailed description and analysis in the main body of the
study. It also enables the reader to discern which sources were helpful, which
gave less information, and which would be important to approach for
continued research in future.
Chapter 2
Methodology
A. Bibliographical Sources
The initial research for this project was bibliographical in character,
and that effort has continued to the present moment. The list of cited works
appended to this study is only a fragment of the extensive annotated
bibliography amassed over the past few years, which now includes more than
1500 titles. Sources have included the holdings of public libraries, educational
institutions and maritime museums, as well as private collections. The earliest
bibliographical inquiries took place while I was still completing my Master‟s
thesis. Thereafter, whenever I found myself with access to a public library or
maritime museum, I attempted to spend at least enough time there to examine
the catalogue of holdings for titles not previously discovered. Other resources
came to light as the result of suggestions by colleagues or informants and these
recommendations often included institutions and individuals as well as
individual texts.
The greatest disappointments during the research period were my visit
to the Mariners‟ Museum in Newport News, Virginia, where the library
facilities were unavailable even to staff due to asbestos removal operations,
and my visit to the British National Maritime Museum at Greenwich, where
most twentieth century materials had been removed to set up an exhibit on the
two world wars that was not scheduled to open for a further ten to twelve
weeks and to which I was unable to return. The most fruitful resources in the
United States were visits to the Porter Shaw Library (part of the National
Maritime Museum in San Francisco), the Paul Hall Memorial Library of the
Seafarers‟ Harry Lundeberg School of Seamanship in Piney Point, Maryland,
and the libraries of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy (Kings Point, New
York) and the California Maritime Academy. In Canada, the most productive
were the Marine Museum of the Atlantic in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and
Memorial University of Newfoundland. At the latter, both the Queen
Elizabeth II Library and the Maritime History Archives advanced the maritime
aspects of the research, while the Memorial University of Newfoundland
Folklore and Language Archive43 augmented ethnographic and folkloric
materials. The most valuable sources in the United Kingdom have proven to
be personal visits to the British Library Document Centre at Boston Spa and
the Picton and International Libraries in William Brown Street, Liverpool,
excepting, of course, the Inter-Library Loan system, through the University of
Sheffield Library, which has been exceedingly rewarding as well.44 Not the
least of the resources have been several more modern media -- academic
discussion lists accessed via computer networks.45
Many books and articles have been published about the life of the
merchant seaman during the age of sail. Little in the way of published matter
dealing with life in the mercantile marine since steam, diesel, and other such
technologically “modern” means of propulsion replaced wind, however,
rapidly manifested itself in the earlier days of the research. In terms of the
Second World War, that period between 1939 and 1945, many authors had
43
. Hereafter designated solely by its acronym of MUNFLA.
. It is unfortunate that almost all the booknotes taken from these acquisitions were
lost when a case of computer floppy discs went missing, well into the writing-up period. The
Sheffield Central City Library proved an invaluable resource when I was attempting to retrieve
references which were lost on the discs.
45
Some of these sources were also instrumental in retrieving information lost with
the floppy discs.
44
extolled the gallantry of the seagoing warrior46, but very little was available,
even in fiction47, which dealt with the actual day-to-day lives of his civilian
brothers in the merchant service. Notable exceptions were the writings of
Tony Lane48 and a few biographical and autobiographical works which were
anything but easily obtainable49. Some of these I have only seen briefly and
never had an opportunity to read in depth50. Several periodicals, such as the
U.S. Navy‟s magazine, All Hands, and a number of speeches (especially those
by Admiral Emory S. Land, dealing with the United States Merchant Marine)
have been cited in more extensive works, such as Felix Riesenberg‟s Sea War
and Stan Hugill‟s Sailortown, but were not found in a readily accessible
location.
The only widely known fictional works for adult readers dealing with
the twentieth-century merchant seafarer have been the short stories of Guy
Gilpatric and of Dr. Neil Munro, the latter writing under the pen name of
46
. W. Howard Baker, Strike North (London: Trojan Publications, [n.d.]); Alfred
Cecil Hardy, Everyman‟s History of the Sea War in Three Volumes (London: Nicholson and
Watson, 1955); Robert Hughes, Flagship to Murmansk (London: Futura, 1975); Walter Karig:
Battle in the Pacific (prepared from official sources), Battle Report: The Atlantic War, Battle
Report: The End of an Empire, Battle Report: Pacific War: middle phase, Battle Report: Pearl
Harbor to Coral Sea (New York: [Farrar and] Rinehart, 1944-1949); Alistair MacLean, HMS
Ulysses ([Garden City NY?]: Doubleday, 1955); Arthur J. Marder, From the Dreadnought to
Scapa Flow (5 vols) (London: Oxford University Press, 1961-1970); Nicholas Monsarrat:
Corvette Command, The Cruel Sea, East Coast Corvette, H.M. Corvette, Three Corvettes
(London: Cassell/New York: Lippincott, 1943-1945); Samuel Eliot Morison: History of
United States Naval Operations in World War II, The Two-Ocean War (Boston: Little, Brown
and Co., 1946-1962 and New York: Ballantine Books, 1963 (pb)); Dudley Pope, Convoy: A
Novel (New York: Walker, 1987); etc.
47
. Guy Gilpatric‟s Action in the North Atlantic (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1943) and
James Pattinson‟s Last in Convoy (New York: McDowell, Oblensky, [1958, c1957]) seem to
be the exceptions that prove the rule in fiction.
48
. Lane, Grey Dawn Breaking and The Merchant Seaman‟s War previously cited.
49
. Alex Aiken, In Time of War; Frank Laskier, My Name is Frank (New York:
Norton, 1942); Hal Lawrence, A Bloody War: One Man‟s Memories of the Canadian Navy
(Toronto: Macmillan, 1979); E.J. Quinby, Ida was a Tramp -- and Other Reflections
(Hicksville NY: Exposition Press, 1975); C. Tillman, Engine Room Sea Stories 1931-1945
(Oakland CA: by author, 1986).
50
. S.J. Hartland, The Dustless Road (Reading: Educational Explorers Limited,
1965); Frederick Sawyer Herman, Dynamite Cargo: Convoy to Russia (New York: Vanguard
Press, 1943); Norman Lee, Landlubber‟s Log: 25,000 Miles with the Merchant Navy (London:
Quality Press, 1945); Colin MacKenzie, Sailors of Fortune (New York: E.P. Dutton and
Company, Inc., 1944); Hugh Mulzac, A Star to Steer By (New York: International Publishers,
1963); Tom O'Reilly, Purser‟s Progress: The Adventures of a Seagoing Office Boy (New
York: Doubleday, Doran and Company, Inc., 1944); Allen Raymond, Waterfront Priest (New
York: Henry Holt, 1955); Quentin Reynolds, Convoy (New York: Random House, 1942).
„Hugh Foulis‟. Gilpatric‟s works dealt primarily with a Chief Engineer51
named Mr. Glencannon, who sailed on tramp steamers, and they appeared in
North American popular literary magazines throughout the 1930s, ‟40s, and
‟50s. Most of these magazines are no longer in publication. Anthologies of
the stories were also published in book form.52 In addition, Gilpatric wrote a
novel, Action in the North Atlantic, which was subsequently made into a
wartime film, starring Humphrey Bogart and William Bendix.53 Para Handy,
Munro‟s character, was the skipper of a Scottish coaster and the stories
appeared first in the Glasgow Evening News and then in three short volumes,
not being gathered into a single omnibus54 until after the author‟s death in
1931. That date, however, renders them chronologically irrelevant to the
current research.55
The works of Howard Pease and Percy F. Westerman, noted
previously, were intended for juvenile readers and were extremely popular in
their day, although their acceptance has waned to the extent that the works no
longer appear on the shelves of most young people‟s libraries. Pease‟s entire
output was twenty-two titles, of which at least sixteen had nautical themes,
while Westerman‟s yield was almost triple that number with only a minor
segment focussing upon the mercantile marine. In Twentieth-Century
51
. Throughout this work, in order to provide a distinction and avoid confusion, I
have used upper case initial letters for all ranks and ratings, such as Mate, Boy, and the like,
despite the fact that this is not the prevalent usage.
52
. Gilpatric‟s stories appeared in such North American magazines as The Saturday
Evening Post and Collier's. Among the anthologies of these stories as published in book form
were Guy Gilpatric, The Canny Mr. Glencannon; in which is set forth a true account of the
numerous recent and stirring events in the exemplary life and charitable works of Colin St.
Andrew MacThrockle Glencannon, Esq., chief engineer of the S.S. Inchcliffe Castle (New
York: E.P. Dutton, 1948); The First Glencannon Omnibus, including Scotch and Water, Halfseas Over, Three Sheets in the Wind (New York: Dodd, 1945); and Mr. Glencannon Ignores
the War (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1944).
53
. Guy Gilpatric, Action in the North Atlantic (New York: E P Dutton, 1943). The
film is mentioned in Gleichauf, 213, and I can testify to its existence from personal knowledge,
having viewed it in its entirety more than once on television.
54
. All the information on the „Para Handy‟ texts and their publication is derived
from the Foreword of Neil Munro, Para Handy Tales (London: Pan Books Ltd., 1969 [Rpt. of
London: William Blackwood and Sons Ltd., 1955]). I am grateful to my friend, Alan Frith, for
obtaining a copy of this book for me.
55
. It is interesting to note that a BBC television series based on the Para Handy
stories made its debut on Sunday, 31 July, 1994.
Children‟s Writers, the reviewers class Pease‟s works as “action-filled,
suspenseful, and convincing,” the characters as “vibrant and alive”.56
Unfortunately for poor Westerman, his “writing falls too easily into cliché and
his characters into stereotypes” and he is charged with a lack of “imaginative
sympathy”, while a change in fashion which rendered inappropriate the actions
and qualities of his heroes led to declining readership.57
Many volumes whose titles have been gleaned from the catalogues of
maritime libraries there has been too little time to examine in adequate detail58.
Others have been highly recommended by informants or colleagues, but have
never actually been located in the course of the research.59 These include not
56
. D. L. Kirkpatrick, ed., Twentieth-Century Children‟s Writers (London:
Macmillan, 1978), 983.
57
. Kirkpatrick, 1319. Despite repeated endeavours, I was never able to locate a
single Westerman work to read for comparison with Pease.
58
. Robert Greenhalg Albion and Jennie Barnes Pope, Sea Lanes in Wartime: the
American Experience 1775-1945 ([Hamden CT]: Archon Books, 1968); Robert Earle
Andersen, The Merchant Marine and World Frontiers (New York: Cornell Maritime Press,
1945); Ivor Halstead, Heroes of the Atlantic: The British Merchant Navy Carries On! (New
York: E.P. Dutton and Company, Inc., c1942); Elmo Paul Hohman, History of American
Merchant Seamen (Hamden CT: Shoe String Press, 1956) and Seamen Ashore: A Study of the
United Seamen‟s Service and of Merchant Seamen in Port (New Haven CT: Yale University
Press, 1952); Douglas How, Night of the Caribou (Hantsport NS: Lancelot Press, 1988); J.
Lennox Kerr, ed., Touching the Adventures of Merchantmen in the Second World War
(London: Harrap, 1953); George G. Killinger, ed., The Psycho-Biological Program of the War
Shipping Administration (Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1946); Donald G.F.
MacIntyre, The Battle of the Atlantic (London/Sydney: Pan Books, 1st. pub. 1961; 1st Pan,
1969, also 1983. New York: Macmillan, 1961. London: B.T. Batsford, Ltd., 1961); Nicholas
Manolis, We At Sea: the epic of the American Mariner (New York: Anatolia Press, 1949);
David Masters, In Peril on the Sea: War Exploits of Allied Seamen (London: Cresset Press,
1960); Samuel Duff McCoy, ...Nor Death Dismay: A Record of Merchant Ships and Merchant
Mariners in Time of War (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1944); Allan Nevins, Sail On:
The Story of the American Merchant Marine (New York: United States Lines, 1946); William
G. Schofield, Eastward the Convoys (Chicago/New York/San Francisco: Rand McNally and
Company, 1965); William L. Standard, Merchant Seamen: A Short History of Their Struggles
(New York: International Publishers, 1947); Kurt Weibust, The Crew as a Social System [full
bibliographical information not available].
59
. Homer H. Hickam, Jr., Torpedo Junction (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press,
1989); Terry Hughes and John Costello, The Battle of the Atlantic (New York: Dial Press/J.
Wade (London: Collins), c1977); Sir Archibald Spicer Hurd, The Battle of the Seas: The
Fighting Merchantmen (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1941); Glenn B. Infield, Disaster at
Bari (New York: Ace Books, 1971); Kaj Klitgaard, Oil and Deep Water (Chapel Hill NC:
University of North Carolina Press, 1945); James B. Lamb, The Corvette Navy: True Stories
from Canada‟s Atlantic War (Toronto: Macmillan, [1982?]); Emory Scott Land, The United
States Merchant Marine at War (Washington DC: U.S. Government, 1946); Marc Milner,
North Atlantic Run: The RCN and the Battle for the Convoys (Toronto: University of Toronto
Press, 1985); Dan van der Vat, The Atlantic Campaign: World War II‟s Great Struggle at Sea
(New York et al: Harper and Row, 1988).
only volumes of personal experience narratives and the like, but also
elementary reference materials.60
The one item whose lack I most regret was recommended by Robert
Madison, a professor of English at the United States Naval Academy in
Annapolis, Maryland.61 He said that Richard McKenna, author of The Sand
Pebbles, had contributed an article to a book edited by Robert Shenk, that the
book was called The Left-Handed Monkey Wrench and Other Essays, that it
had been published by the Naval Institute Press in Annapolis, and that it, or at
least the essay in question, dealt with fools‟ errands upon which novices might
be sent at sea. Despite painstaking searches in every library and museum with
which I subsequently dealt, I have never yet seen either book or article.62
Effort has been made by some scholars in recent years to report
factually on the mercantile marine during the age of sail, and even the earliest
days of steam, in the form of social history, labour history, and sociology.63 At
least one volume has been published recently which treats occupational
folklife and labourlore generally, but which has fuelled the research for this
particular project as well.64 Also, during the data-gathering period leading to
60
. I personally own the volumes by Sawyer and Mitchell on the Liberty ships,
Victory Ships and T-2 tankers, but have only been given the merest glance at their book on the
Canadian and British equivalent of these vessels, The Oceans, Forts and Parks, at the office of
Captain Paul Brick, an informant in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and momentarily glimpsed a
corresponding work on the British “Empire” boats on the shelves of the International Library
in Liverpool. I also own Capt. Arthur Moore‟s absolutely invaluable A Careless Word... ...A
Needless Sinking [full refs. footnote 80, this chapter] on US merchant losses during World War
II and John M. Young‟s Britain‟s Sea War: A Diary of Ship Losses 1939-1945
(Wellingborough, Northants.: Patrick Stephens Limited, 1989). The Admiralty publication,
British Merchant Vessels Lost or Damaged by Enemy Action During the Second World War:
3rd September, 1939 to 2nd September, 1945 (London: HMSO, 1947) would have been a truly
worthwhile addition as well, had I been able to locate a copy for sale.
61
. Personal conversation, late June 1990.
62
. A friend facetiously quipped that I myself might appear to have been sent on a
fool‟s errand in this instance.
63
. Craig J. Forsyth, The American Merchant Seaman and His Industry: Struggle
and Stigma (New York, et al.: Taylor and Francis, 1989); Marcus Buford Rediker, Between
the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea: Merchant Seamen, Pirates, and the Anglo-American
Maritime World, 1700-1750 (Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987); Eric
W. Sager, Seafaring Labour (Montreal: McGill -- Queen's University Press, 1989); Mariam G.
Sherar, Shipping Out: A Sociological Study of the American Merchant Seaman (Cambridge
MD: Cornell Maritime Press, Inc., 1973); et alia.
64
. Green, Wobblies, Pile Butts, and Other Heroes, cited previously.
this study, an excellent book was published concerning the United States Navy
Armed Guard -- that segment of the military which was assigned to protect
merchant ships sailing under the American flag by living aboard them and
manning whatever armaments they carried.65 The Navy Armed Guard was
roughly equivalent to the Defensive Equipment Merchant Ships gunners
(DEMS) aboard British flag vessels,66 although the terms cannot be regarded as
altogether synonymous. The differences between the two will be treated at a
later point. I know of no book dealing specifically with the DEMS gunners or
the Territorial Army and Royal Marine gunners who also served aboard British
and other Allied ships, but at least three further books deal with the U.S. Navy
Armed Guard.67 I have acquired one for my personal library and seen the
others only in the personal libraries of others. Gunners Get Glory was in the
library of C.A. Lloyd, the man who headed the Navy Armed Guard veterans‟
organisation at the time of the North American fieldwork, and the Brinkley
book, which would seem not only the most germane to this study but an
absolutely essential reference, has only been briefly glimpsed within the
personal library of Ian Millar in North Carolina.
Not surprisingly, the majority of published North American sources
containing personal experience narratives on the subject here treated were
books and booklets of limited circulation published by trade unions or
shipping companies primarily at the time of the Second World War or
65
. Gleichauf, Unsung Sailors, cited previously.
. Hereafter, the acronym will be used to refer to this group, as it is in common use
among most seafarers, military people, and historians dealing with the period of World War II.
67
. United States Navy Armed Guard Veterans of World War II (Dallas TX: Taylor
Publishing Company, 1987); Lloyd Wendt, chron., Gunners Get Glory: Lt. Bob Barry‟s Story
of the Navy‟s Armed Guard (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1943); and Dyron Lavon Brinkley,
The U.S. Naval Armed Guard and the Merchant Marine of World War II (Torrance CA: by
author, 1986).
66
immediately thereafter.68 In the case of the trade union publications, many of
these were undeniably propaganda, such as the colour comic “Heroes in
Dungarees” which was funded by the National Maritime Union and glorified
the (union-organised) merchant mariner at war in the most florid style
imaginable.69 In the United Kingdom, the majority of the shipping company
histories were contemporary to the war and there was some effort at
government propaganda immediately after 1945.70 It was a pleasant surprise,
therefore, to discover that there were also a few recently published titles71
beginning to offer an account of the daily life of the merchant seafarers of the
Second World War for less limited and more unbiased consumption by the
general public. Several of these were collections of personal experience
68
. Eugene F. Hoffman, American President Lines‟ Role in World War II (San
Francisco: APL, 1946); Marquis James, The Texaco Story: The First Fifty Years, 1902-1952
(New York: The Texaco Company, 1952); John H. Melville, The Great White Fleet [United
Fruit Company], (New York et al: Vantage Press, 1976); Standard Oil Company of New
Jersey, Ships of the ESSO Fleet in World War II (New York: Standard Oil Company (New
Jersey) (SOCONJ), 1946).
69
. See also the section in Chapter Six dealing with attitudes ashore. “First
published in „Comic Cavalcade,‟ a comic book with a newsstand circulation of over 400,000,
and later reprinted for distribution to schools, troops and labor organizations, this comic strip
represented the first attempt by a national trade union to enter the comic strip media..” Donald
Edward Willett, “Joe Curran and the National Maritime Union, 1936-1945”, (Unpublished
Ph.D. dissertation, Texas A-and-M, American History, December 1985), 167, citing dual
sources from 1944.
70
. Stanton Hope, Tanker Fleet: the war story of the Shell tankers and the men who
manned them (London: Anglo-Saxon Petroleum Co., 1948); Malcolm Falkus, The Blue Funnel
Legend: A History of the Ocean Steam Ship Company, 1865-1973 (London: Macmillan,
1990); George F. Kerr, Business in Great Waters [Peninsular and Orient], (London: Faber,
1946); W.E. Lucas, Eagle Fleet: The story of a tanker fleet in peace and war [Eagle Tankers],
(London: Weidenfield and Nicolson, 1955); Ministry of Information (for the Ministry of War
Transport), Merchantmen at War: The Official Story of the Merchant Navy: 1939-1944
(London: HMSO, 1944); Stephen W. Roskill, A Merchant Fleet in War [“Blue Funnel” Alfred
Holt] (London: Collins, 1962); Hilary St. George Saunders, Valiant Voyaging [British India
Steam Navigation Company], (London: Faber and Faber, 1948); “Taffrail” (Capt. Taprell
Dorling), Blue Star Line At War, 1939-1945 (London/New York et al: W. Fouldham and Co.,
Ltd., 1973); Sydney D. Waters, Ordeal by Sea [New Zealand Shipping Company], (London:
New Zealand Shipping Company Ltd., 1949).
71
. Battle of the Atlantic: An Anthology of Personal Memories (Liverpool: Picton
Press, 1993); Doddy Hay, War Under the Red Ensign (London: Jane‟s, 1982); Alfred Lund,
The Red Duster (Whitby, N. Yorks.: Whitby Press, 1989); John Slader, The Red Duster at
War: A History of the Merchant Navy during the Second World War (London: William
Kimber, 1988); John Terraine, Business in Great Waters (London, Cooper, 1989); etc.
narratives, verse, or quasi-fiction published by The Marine Society and edited
by its Director, Dr. Ronald Hope.72
Undeniably the single most comprehensively chronicled convoy of the
war was that to North Russia, widely known by its Admiralty code name,
PQ17. The volumes written about this ill-starred venture include official
reports, justifications for the actions of those then in authority73, accusations
against others in authority,74 eyewitness descriptions from crew members75, and
in-depth exposés by professional investigative journalists.76
A few other volumes about convoys to Russia77 or Malta78 have been
published within the past two or three decades, and there are one or two more
dealing with individual North Atlantic sailings.79
Among further areas well worth investigating in connection with this
study but for which there was insufficient time were the activities of the
72
. Sea Pie (Fifty Years of “The Seafarer”) (London: Fairplay in association with
the Marine Society, 1984); The Seaman‟s World: Merchant Seamens‟ Reminiscences (London:
Harrap (in association with The Marine Society), 1982); Seamen and the Sea: A collection of
new sea stories by Merchant Seamen (London/Toronto: George G. Harrap, 1965); Twenty
Singing Seamen (Stories) (London: Stanford Maritime, 1979); Voices From the Sea (Poems)
(London: Harrap [for the Marine Society], 1977).
73
. Jack Broome, Convoy is to Scatter (London: William Kimber, 1972).
74
. Vice Admiral Sir John Hayes, Face the Music (no loc.: Pentland Press, 1991).
75
. “Ferocious” O‟Flaherty, Abandoned Convoy: The U.S. Merchant Marine in
World War II: The Full Story of the Debacle of Convoy P.Q. 17 told for the First Time by
“Ferocious” O‟Flaherty (Mariner) (New York: Exposition Press, Inc., 1970); Paul Lund and
Harry Ludlam, PQ 17 -- Convoy to Hell: The Survivors‟ Story (London: New English Library,
1968, 1969, 1970), etc.
76
. David Irving, The Destruction of Convoy PQ-17 (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1968); Theodore Taylor, Battle in the Arctic Seas: The story of Convoy PQ 17 (New
York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1976), etc.
77
. Brian Betham Schofield, The Russian Convoys (Philadelphia: Dufour Editions,
1964) and The Arctic Convoys (London: Macdonald and Jane‟s, 1977), also The Rescue Ships,
co-authored by L.F. Martyn (London: William Blackwood and Sons Limited, 1968).
78
. Peter C. Smith, Pedestal: The Malta Convoy of 1942 (London: William Kimber,
1970); Peter Shankland and Anthony Hunter, Malta Convoy (New York: Ives Washburn Inc.,
1961); Ian Cameron or Donald Payne[?], Red Duster, White Ensign: the story of the Malta
Convoys (London: Frederick Muller, Ltd., 1959/Garden City NY: Doubleday, 1960) and a
couple of paperbacks.
79
. Ronald Seth, The Fiercest Battle: the story of North Atlantic convoy ONS 5,
22nd April-7th May 1943 (New York: W.W. Norton and Company Inc., c1961 (1st US 1962));
John Waters, Bloody Winter (Annapolis MD, et al: Naval Institute Press, 1984); Martin
Middlebrook, Convoy: The Battle for Convoys SC.122 and HX.229 (London/New York: Allen
Lane/William Morrow, 1976/1977 (c1976)); etc.
United States Coast Guard,80 the Canadian coastal forces,81 and the British
lifeboat services.82
80
. Rex Ingraham, First Fleet: The Story of the United States Coast Guard at War
(Indianapolis/New York: Bobbs-Merrill, [1944]); Arch A. Mercey, Sea, Surf and Hell: the
United States Coast Guard in World War II (New York: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1945); Malcolm
F. Willoughby, The United States Coast Guard in World War II (Annapolis MD: U.S. Naval
Institute Press, 1956,1957).
81
. Michael L. Hadley, U-Boats Against Canada: German Submarines in Canadian
Waters (Kingston/Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1985); Stephen Butler Leacock,
et al, Canada‟s War at Sea (Montreal: A.M. Beatty, 1944) and a number of publications
sponsored by the Navy League of Canada.
82
. Charles Vince, Storm on the Waters (London: Hodder and Stoughton, Ltd.,
1946).
B. Fieldwork
In a consultation which preceded our formal relationship, I mentioned
to my current supervisor that I thought an ethnographic study of modern
merchant mariners would be worthwhile and it should be done now, while a
large number of them were still living active, productive lives, with their
mental processes unimpaired. It was then suggested to me83 that the area was
far too diverse to be adequately investigated by a single study, but that a more
limited segment of it would make an excellent topic. I felt I had a natural
inclination towards the convoys of World War II, not least because veterans‟
status had only recently been granted to merchant mariners in the U.S., and the
subject was prevalent in the conversation and interests of my family and their
familiars.84
The men interviewed in the course of the fieldwork were all
Anglophones and all but one or two were native-born to areas now part of
Canada, the United States of America, or the United Kingdom. Had time and
funds been unlimited, I should have preferred to include various other groups
in the sample, including Scandinavia and the Low Countries, the Free French,
and Australasia, among others. It was, however, beyond the capacities of any
individual to accomplish such a prodigious feat without unlimited resources.
Those eventually interviewed were for the most part retired and inactive
merchant mariners (although a few were still sailing or actively working in
maritime-related fields at the time of the interviews and a few of the men‟s
wives participated marginally in the interview sessions). A substantial
minority of the sample had been military gunners serving aboard merchant
vessels during the Second World War, and a very few, only four or five of the
total of more than one hundred, were military men who had served aboard
83
. John D.A. Widdowson, personal communication, Summer 1989.
. See the Introduction and Chapter Six for further information on this subject.
84
naval escort vessels. One was a soldier in the U.S. Army who had travelled to
the European Theatre of Operations aboard a troopship in convoy. He was
included because he was a willing volunteer and it seemed worthwhile to
include the views of one who had been a sort of unofficial participant/observer
at the time of the convoys themselves. The questions asked were substantially
the same in all instances although, as no formal questionnaire was involved,
the order in which they were asked was not inflexible and at least one query
(but seldom the same one) was overlooked in almost every interview.
The understandable constraints of time and of the availability of
interviewees carried even more weight when borne upon the shoulders of a
single investigator than they would have done upon a team effort. These
restrictions were all that kept the project within reasonable bounds. With
unlimited facilities and an international network of confederates, one might
have envisaged a cross-section of Allied convoys, including those originating
in Australasia and other major Pacific staging areas, as well as an in-depth
investigation into the participation of non-Anglophone Allies and neutrals.
Such endeavours, however, were beyond the capabilities of a mere individual
and so were never envisaged as part of the enterprise, much less attempted.
Certain questions which later became part of the model were not
among those asked systematically in the earlier interviews. The question of
which watch was the informant‟s favourite, for example, only arose by chance,
part way through the North American fieldwork. Responses proved so
interesting that this question was regularly included in succeeding interviews,
and also disclosed that those who favoured a specific watch often appeared to
have certain other attitudes or preferences in common.85 Other areas of interest
were only revealed when the writing began, and, never the result of formal
questioning, arose gratuitously from the database at irregular intervals,
85
. See the section on Favourite Watches in Chapter Four.
exciting enough interest in my mind to be included in the final study.
“Washing Machines”86 is an example of one such topic, which nearly became a
subsection in itself.
A free, conversational technique of interviewing allowed the informant
to lead the way, rather than to follow the researcher in a “tape-recorded
questionnaire” format. The first few interviews laid the basic ground rules for
the procedure which was to be followed throughout. The first questions asked
almost inevitably dealt with how and when the informant first went to sea, at
what age, and in what capacity. Many respondents presented their discharge
papers or union books and went through a ship-by-ship history of their
seafaring lives. Such recitals were seldom curtailed, as they enabled the
informants to organise their memories in such a way as to implement further
contributions, and made them feel more at ease within the interview situation.
If, as was sometimes the case, they retreated into their memories, forgetting
who the interviewer was and completely ignoring the presence of the taperecorder, this was considered to be a premium and an indication that the job
was being done properly.
Although naturally a little tentative at first, I soon developed a basic
format for interviews. After receiving a response from the initial mail contact,
I would send a letter telling the informant when I would be in his area and
suggesting an expedient date and time for an interview, urging him to ring or
write to confirm that such a time would be agreeable to him. If such a
response was not forthcoming or if time considerations precluded, I made a
final telephone contact myself to confirm the interview date, time, and
location, including directions, before proceeding. Only once did this system
break down, and even that interview came to a successful denouement.
86
. This subject is covered in Chapter Three.
Most of the interviews were conducted at informants‟ homes and in a
one-on-one situation. Group interviews were considered less than desirable, as
they tended to allow more freedom to the already voluble, while suppressing
the often more tempting tidbits proffered by the more reticent and less
loquacious. Occasionally a group interview was unavoidable and I was
compelled to make the best of the situation. A few interviews were conducted
in a private home other than that of the informant, in my own temporary
residence, in a business office, or in a more public venue such as a club, pub,
hotel lobby, union hiring hall, or retirement home. Several, during the earlier
phases of the fieldwork, took place aboard restored merchant vessels of the
World War II period which now hold the status of floating museums. In many
cases there are vague suspicions that a different venue might have slightly
altered the result, but any significant variation of either the quality or the
quantity of data obtained would have been extremely unlikely.
I made a concerted effort to dress neatly, but casually, for interviews.
Many former ratings would have been discomfited by excessive academic
formality in a researcher‟s appearance or demeanour. I also attempted to avoid
being overly casual or familiar in conduct, thus maintaining my tacitly
somewhat “official” status in such a manner as to imply recognition of the
value of each individual informant‟s contributions. The fact that I came from
a seafaring background, already understood many of the terms used, and was
not a complete neophyte to the data I was given, was to my advantage. If,
however, something was about to be disregarded by an informant on the
grounds that “you already know about that”, he was gently reminded that
everyone sees things from a different perspective and that it would be
advantageous for me to get as many views as possible, or that the average
reader might not know, so a complete and informed definition or description
was preferred, in order that inaccuracy might be avoided. This technique
usually achieved the desired result.
On arriving at the venue and meeting the informant, I tried always to
offer a firm handshake and a business card by way of self-introduction and not
to depend too heavily on any entrée provided by a third party. Such
dependence has occasionally proven prejudicial to fieldwork undertaken in
similar circumstances. Once we were seated, I produced my release forms.
Several men were a bit reluctant to sign, saying there was no need for such
paperwork, as they were “obviously” willing participants. I then explained the
necessity of such documents to confirm this willingness and to deter the
unscrupulous from exploiting the unwary. This usually led to a more relaxed
atmosphere, as I often described the wording of the release forms as
characterising me as some sort of “God‟s gift to the merchant seaman”, which
brought a note of gentle humour into the proceedings. Once a release form
was not returned to me. I believe this to have been an oversight on the part of
the informant and still hope to obtain this release. I have taken the precaution
of not using that person‟s name in the current study, although I believe he
would not have objected to my doing so. A few others urged me to use
extreme discretion with their data and/or their identities, and I have done so to
the best of my ability.
The tape-recorder was always equipped with a fresh tape and batteries
before arrival at the venue, so there was a minimum of fuss getting out the
microphone and plugging the whole thing together. Several of the more
technologically-minded of the men visited, it seemed, would have much
preferred a discussion of the relative merits of tape-recorders to an
ethnographic oral history interview, but they usually allowed me to guide them
in the appropriate direction without undue difficulties or squandering of time.
Once the tape was running, the recording was headed with an introduction
giving the date and location and the informant‟s name. This presented the
prospect of the researcher making a mistake and lightening the atmosphere still
more,87 and simultaneously assured that basic data were correct. More than
once I was laughingly corrected as to the date, the pronunciation of the
informant‟s name, or some similar datum.
Other than the fact that each interview was usually begun by asking
how, when, at what age, and in what capacity the informant first went to sea,
questions were asked in a random order, depending on where the informant led
the conversation. After the first few encounters, it was discovered that certain
frequent responses were to be expected. In England, for example, the
question, “How did the Departments get along aboard ship?” usually got a
response something like, “Oh, you mean the old „oil-and-water‟ thing? There
wasn‟t much of that by the time the Second World War came along.”
Questions regarding beliefs involving „luck‟ usually drew a blank, but there
were some delightfully surprising results as well, like the man who divulged
that his maternal uncle had been born in a caul, which he (the informant) had
subsequently carried for luck while at sea.88
The itinerary for the North American fieldwork took me from my
parents‟ home in Southern California north to British Columbia and back, then
through Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico and West Texas to the Gulf of
Mexico. I followed the Gulf Coast to Florida, then crossed into Georgia and
up the Atlantic Seaboard to Halifax, Nova Scotia and back to Delaware.
These travels took almost a year to complete, beginning late in the autumn of
1989, covered well over four thousand miles, and were interspersed with visits
with friends throughout North America, meetings with e-mail “pen pals” and
87
. I once introduced an informant on tape by the similar surname of a colleague of
mine and on another occasion introduced a second tape with the name of another mariner who
had been mentioned just before the tapemran out.
88
. This will be more fully covered in Chapter Seven, Section B.
an occasional sidetrack for purely personal reasons, such as a traditional music
festival. This segment of data collection was concluded in late August of
1990, just prior to my departure for the United Kingdom. After a period of
settling in and some preliminary writing, I conducted one individual interview
on the outskirts of Sheffield in spring of 1991 and a group interview in Belfast,
Northern Ireland, in the summer of that year. After a hiatus of several months
I returned to Canada in October for a half-dozen interviews in Newfoundland
followed by a further gap. The remaining interviews in the study were
conducted over a three-month period in the spring of 1992 and most took place
in Merseyside, varied only by a brief jaunt to the south of England and one
dual interview in Mansfield.
A fairly detailed itinerary, excerpted from my field journal, follows
here. This account is of consequence because no one heretofore, to the best of
my knowledge, has undertaken an occupational ethnography of this scope and
magnitude, and the itinerary outlines both the scheme and the range of the
research involved. Ethnography, by its very nature, requires a rehearsing of
and commentary on informants and context, and the itinerary does this as well.
Personal testimonies were collected on an exceedingly wide scale and the
itinerary gives the details. With its aid, the reader can readily identify the
people and institutions visited in the course of the research and discern which
were most helpful, which gave less information, and which might prove
important sources for future research. The itinerary reveals the total numbers
of people potentially and actually interviewable, whose personal testimony
forms the basis of the detailed description and analysis in the main body of the
study. It also provides me with the opportunity to acknowledge and thank
again some of the many whose help was so valuable to me. Using a social
network approach, I asked as many individuals as possible to share their
convoy experiences, meeting them face to face and, through their interview
testimony, “getting inside the minds” of those who experienced these things
first-hand before their rapidly declining numbers rendered such interviews
impossible.
Despite the fact that my stepfather, Capt. Fred Steele, had an extensive
background in the Merchant Service, we found the interviewer/informant
relationship virtually impossible to establish. This was not for lack of
willingness on either side, as he has given and sent me many important items
of information and provided me with the basic intelligence on which my work
has been founded, but rather it was the result of a difficulty in communication.
In consequence, the first interview was with a family friend, Capt. Emerson
Chodzko, whom I visited at his home in Long Beach, California, over the
holiday period of Thanksgiving, 1989, and with whom I had two interviews
during that time. During this November holiday period, I also visited the Port
of Los Angeles in San Pedro, including the Los Angeles Maritime Museum
and the recently constructed and dramatic Merchant Marine Veterans‟
Memorial depicted in the photograph which forms the frontispiece of this
study.
In Wilmington, between Long Beach and San Pedro, I discovered the
S/ S
Lane Victory, a World War II “Victory ship”89 under restoration by the
United States Merchant Marine Veterans of World War II90, and made some
important contacts aboard her, which led to further interviews on a return visit
to the area. One of the men encountered on this first call, Mr. Isaac B. Givens,
had been a Steward and ship‟s Cook and I had the good fortune to experience
his talents first-hand at a later date. The USMMVWWII were also kind
89
. L.A. Sawyer and W.H. Mitchell, Victory Ships and T-2 Tankers: The History of
the „Victory‟ type cargo ships and of the tankers built in the United States of America during
World War II (Cambridge MD: Cornell Maritime Press, Inc., [1972?]), 48. Hull number V78.
Still listed as “In Reserve Suisun Bay, Cal.” Victory ships were a type of standard ship design.
“Standard” ships will be discussed in a subsequent chapter.
90
. Hereafter referred to as the USMMVWWII.
enough to publish in their newspaper, THE ANCHOR LIGHT, a request for convoy
information which brought in numerous responses both by mail and telephone.
A number of the resultant interviews were held aboard the vessel herself,
either on deck or in the mess areas.
Returning to my parents‟ home at the end of November 1989, I reencountered some of my stepfather‟s classmates from the California Maritime
Academy. John Marshall Dallas, Carter Houston, and Charles Sauerbier all
live nearby and I had met them socially on previous occasions, so it was no
difficulty to induce them to visit, or to talk. Although only a partial interview
of the tape-recorded variety resulted, a number of bibliographical references
were offered and much secondary information was obtained. “Marsh” Dallas
donated a mimeographed letter from a United States Navy Pharmacist‟s Mate
aboard the USS Savannah in the Mediterranean during the Sicily and Salerno
beachheads.
Shortly after this, I left to spend Christmas in Washington State, and,
passing through San Francisco, visited the Jeremiah O‟Brien, a restored
Liberty ship.91 I obtained several interviews with volunteer watchkeepers
aboard, was given a tour by Bob Burnett, the curator/“ship‟s husband” of the
O‟Brien, visited the nearby Porter Shaw Library (part of the National Maritime
Museum, and housed, like the O‟Brien herself, at Fort Mason near San
Francisco‟s Polk Street Wharf Maritime exhibits and the main National
Maritime Museum building), and was encouraged to return in January or
91
. L.A. Sawyer and W.H. Mitchell, The Liberty Ships: The History of the
„Emergency‟ type Cargo Ships constructed in the United States during the Second World War
(London, et ux: Lloyd's of London Press Ltd., (2nd ed.) 1985), 59 [Her present 3” bow and 5”
stern guns came from the USS Palawan, Liberty ship hull number 2400.], 104. She was hull
number 230, launched 6.43 by the New England Shipbuilding Corporation West Yard in
South Portland, Maine, with a General Motors Corporation engine. A complete section of this
book, pp. 229-237, deals exclusively with the Jeremiah O‟Brien. Liberty ships, like the later
Victories, were standard ships.
February for the “steaming weekend”.92 Among the interviews collected
aboard the O‟Brien before I continued northwards was one with a purser, Bob
Imbeau, who had been a paymaster in the Army Transport Service93 and who
said that although it now rather shamed him to admit it, he had actually
enjoyed his wartime experiences.
After the holidays, I returned to the coast, first to Western Washington
University in Bellingham, where I had had correspondence with James
Hitchman, a maritime historian whose name I had found in a listing of
maritime researchers obtained through Lewis “Skip” Fischer of the Maritime
History Archives at Memorial University of Newfoundland. I then proceeded
to Victoria, British Columbia, where, at the University, I called upon Eric
Sager, a scholar whom I had previously met when he was visiting
Newfoundland in connection with the publication of a book on early Canadian
seafarers and the conditions under which they worked.94 Like Hitchman, he
provided me with bibliographical references and the names of further scholars
with whom to make contact in the course of my Canadian and American
inquiries.95
Retracing the route toward San Francisco, I stopped once more in
Washington to visit Capt. Harold Huycke, a marine surveyor and maritime
historian whose contributions were of inestimable value. I then continued
92
. In order to keep the O‟Brien in working trim, volunteer workers raise steam in
her monthly and turn her screws over slowly while she remains tied up at the dock. This is
often an occasion for showing of videos related to seafaring as well as for communal meals,
drinking, and a good deal of camaraderie, including story-telling and reminiscing. I
determined to plan my return south to include one of these.
93
. ATS, later MSTS (Military Sea Transport Service), now MSC (Military Sealift
Command).
94
. Eric Sager, Seafaring Labour.
95
. Sager told me that Marc Milner in New Brunswick was doing work on the Royal
Canadian Navy‟s role in the Second World War. As I was “writing-up” this thesis, my
supervisor passed me bibliographical information indicating that Marc Milner had two books
being published by University of Toronto Press, both of which were scheduled for distribution
in October of 1994. One was titled North Atlantic Run: The Royal Canadian Navy and the
Battle for the Convoys. The other, which was also connected with the Naval Institute Press,
was entitled The U-Boat Hunters: The Royal Canadian Navy and the Offensive against
Germany‟s Submarines. I have seen neither of these books.
south to Portland, Oregon, and the Oregon Maritime Museum, a small
institution of limited holdings, but one of the most beautifully organised I had
the pleasure of visiting during my North American inquiries. One of the
volunteer “watch-keepers” at the museum also gave me an impromptu
interview. This man, Paul Buhman, subsequently sent me a useful copy of his
maritime memoirs, which he had compiled for his grandson. While visiting
friends in Southern Oregon, I received a telephone call from Capt. Frank
Waters, who had responded to the USMMVWWII request and who lived quite
nearby, so I had the pleasure of getting an unexpected interview before leaving
the state. This eighty-nine-year-old man turned out to be one of the most
elderly of my interview subjects.
After a visit to the library at the California Maritime Academy, I
conducted interviews with two retired members of the Academy‟s faculty at
their homes in the nearby town of Napa. One, David Grover, had been the
dean of the “schoolship” (CMA)96 until recently and had also written two
books of some value to the research.97 I was also made aware98 of a series then
running in a local paper about the “Port Chicago Explosion,” a local maritime
docks disaster of the Second World War, and was able to ring the paper and
acquire the entire series of articles in photocopy.
Returning to San Francisco for the “steaming weekend” on the
Jeremiah O‟Brien, I obtained seven further interviews with watch-standers
whose regular volunteer work aboard was limited to steaming weekends only.
Two of these were veterans of the U.S. Navy Armed Guard, rather than
merchant seafarers, and a number of others, as might well be supposed, were
96
. The California Maritime Academy just mentioned.
. David H. Grover and Gretchen G. Grover, Captives of Shanghai: The Story of
the President Harrison (Napa CA: Western Maritime Press, 1989) and David Hubert Grover,
U.S. Army Ships and Watercraft of World War II (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1987).
98
. The man who brought this to my attention was the watchman at the caravan
site[trailer park] where I stayed, at the Napa Faigrounds.
97
Engineers. It is interesting to note at this point that most, although certainly
not all, of the veterans who associate themselves with the restoration of these
wartime vessels either hold or at one time held a valid licence/certificate/ticket
as either a Deck99 or Engine Officer. Only a few retired as mere ratings or
crew members, although many had sailed in those lesser capacities during their
wartime service.
Among the interviews at this juncture was included the only one with a
crew member from a United States Navy escort vessel.100 Other informants
during this period were Bill Krasnosky, whose main recollections of the
Russian convoys involved writing a humorous newsletter and trying not to get
caught at it, and who felt that to be lucky one must be Irish -- hence he had
“changed his name to „O‟Krasnosky‟”, and John Pottinger, who was once
asked to take a Hawaiian “troublemaker” into his “black gang”.101 It transpired
that this Kanaka‟s102 unsavoury reputation had sprung from the fact that the
other members of the black gang on his ship were of Scandinavian descent and
they tended to attack him when in their cups.103 A chance visit to the ship by
an ex-Navy Armed Guard named Herb Wilson, from Banning, California, led
to some fascinating notes and a promised interview when, as projected, I
reached the area near his home.
99
. Throughout this work, in order to provide a distinction and prevent confusion, I
have used upper case initial letters for the names of the departments (Deck, Engine, and
Stewards‟/Catering), although this is not the prevalent usage.
100
. Jim Moore (HMC 90-9).
101
. The “black gang” are the Engine Room ratings. The term probably originated
when all steamships were fuelled by coal and those who worked in close proximity to this fuel
were blackened either by the coal dust or the soot resulting from the use of such fuel. It is to
be noted that the licensed Engineers are not considered to be part of “the black gang”, just as
certificated Deck officers are not usually included in the term “crew”. It is also noteworthy
that the term is currently falling out of favour because of the possibility of its being taken in a
“politically incorrect” light.
102
. A slang term meaning Hawaiian or Pacific Islander and deriving from the
Hawaiian language. The equivalent for a “white” person of European background would be
“haole”.
103
. John Pottinger, HMC 90-8, TTC p. 2.
It was quite impressive to go into the Engine Room and see a tripleexpansion steam engine actually in motion. The workings of the ship were
explained to visitors by the volunteer watch-standers and there was even a
jury-rigged “washing machine” which attached to a part of the ship‟s
machinery and agitated a broom handle in a bucket of laundry. Although this
was “faked”, I was assured that similar “Rube Goldberg or Heath Robinson
devices” had commonly been used aboard during the vessel‟s heyday.104 In the
evening a video was shown of one of the O‟Brien‟s most recent memorial
cruises, including mock attacks by aircraft from the re-enactment group “The
Confederate Air Force”. Another film had a good deal of historic footage in it.
Both were extremely entertaining. One of the ladies tending the ship‟s “slop
chest”105 had been the subject of a propaganda photograph called “Wendy the
Welder” when she was a young factory worker during World War II. I bought
a copy and also acquired copies of several essential reference books, including
Sawyer and Mitchell's The Liberty Ships, mentioned above.106
With further time to spend in the Porter Shaw Library, I procured
photocopies of some intriguing materials, including the propaganda comic
book already mentioned. which exhorted men to join the merchant marine.107
Another photocopied acquisition was a magazine article written by Bill
Kooiman, one of the volunteer library staff.108
104
. This subsequently proved to be the case. See Chapter Three.
. A “slop chest” is a sort of ship‟s canteen where tobacco, toiletries, sweets, and
clothing may be purchased while at sea. Purchases made from the slop chest are usually not
paid for at the time, but noted, and the total is deducted from the seafarer‟s wages at the end of
the voyage when he signs off the ship‟s Articles. The “slop chest” on a floating museum is
basically a gift and souvenir shop.
106
. See footnote 47. Also purchased during this visit were Capt. Frank F. Farrar,
(Between the lines of...) A Ship‟s Log Book: Tales of adventure, mischief, and mayhem (St.
Petersburg FL: Great Outdoors Publishing Company, 1988) and Robert J. Young, The Lessons
of the Liberties ([no loc.]: American Bureau of Shipping, 1974).
107
. “Heroes in Dungarees”, NMU Publication No. 20, rpt. from Comic Cavalcade 8
(c1943).
108
. William Kooiman, “S/S Carlton: Gallant Ship or Turncoat?”, Sea Classics 21:12
(December 1988), 66-71 and 79.
105
While in San Francisco I spent an afternoon with Archie Green, the
doyen of occupational folklife and labourlore scholars, and received a wealth
of valuable information and assistance from him. He delighted me both by
considering my research commendable and also by declaring his opinion that
my choice of subject area was both unique and deserving of study. He
maintained that merchant shipping was heretofore so untouched by
ethnographers and folklorists that I might possibly be the only scholar to have
given it proper consideration. There was, as well, a meeting with Karl
Kortum, the Director of the National Maritime Museum, who presented me
with several offprints of the writings of the late Capt. Fred Klebengat, whose
stories are revered by Pacific Coast seafarers as being authentic and true-to-life
as well as entertaining. I also made my initial contact with one of the
seafarers‟ trade unions, the Sailors‟ Union of the Pacific (SUP), and was
invited to come to the union hall where they proposed to assemble a few
veteran seafarers for an interview, a quite successful endeavour. It was
suggested that a similar contact might be made with the Marine Firemen,
Oilers, Watertenders and Wipers (MFOW), but time proved too short for this
enterprise. The SUP hall itself was impressive, with a lovely facade and a bust
of the union‟s founder, Andrew Furuseth,109 as well as an interior oil-painted
multi-panelled memorial to merchant seafarer members of the SUP lost during
World War II, with a list of their names. It is unfortunate that I not only had
no photographic equipment, but that the interior lighting was also insufficient
to permit an adequate photograph of the latter.110
109
. A similar if not identical bust of Furuseth, as well as one of Harry Lundeberg, a
subsequent union official, are to be found at the doors of the SIU Harry Lundeberg School of
Seamanship in Piney Point, Maryland.
110
. At this point I received the first notification of my mother‟s illness, which,
together with her subsequent death, radically affected the itinerary, the schedule, and the work
itself.
Before leaving the San Francisco area I visited Charles Tillman, author
of Engine Room Sea Stories,111 and gleaned a plethora of useful information,
although no formal tape-recorded interview took place. Continuing
southward, and conducting interviews as I went, I visited two of my
stepfather‟s old shipmates, Fred Lewis and Bill Kirby, from each of whom I
obtained profuse and informative data. Moreover, one gave me further
bibliographical sources and both furnished me with copies of photographs and
documents, many of which I had previously been unable to obtain . One of
these men provided the best individual datum that I received during the
entirety of approximately two and one half years of research, but unfortunately
it was not amongst the tape-recorded material.112
Upon returning to my parents‟ home, still early in 1990, I discovered
my mother was in hospital two hundred miles away, and there was a large pile
of letters from respondents to the notice in the USMMVWWII ANCHOR LIGHT.
A constant stream of telephone calls greeted me as well. My mother had been
acting as my secretary, answering letters and making notes on telephone calls,
but her illness had brought this aid to an abrupt halt and I now found it
necessary to accomplish such tasks myself. Furthermore, I succeeded in
conducting an interview or two before returning to the south, during one of
which, with Hank Adams, I was first made aware of both the British
programme which trained merchant mariners to man the guns mounted aboard
their ships during the war, and also the unusual broad-mindedness of the
common merchant seafarer with regard to socially divergent behaviours such
as homosexuality and transvestism.113
111
. C. Tillman, Engine Room Sea Stories 1931-1945 (Oakland CA: by author,
1986).
112
. This item, a migratory anecdote incorporating a proverbial comparison, will be
covered in Chapters Seven and Eight, as both terminology and seafaring folklore.
113
. This will be embraced in Chapter Five, where relationships and attitudes are
discussed.
On this visit to the Los Angeles area, I returned to the Lane Victory and
also made contact with the Masters‟, Mates‟ and Pilots‟ Union Hall in nearby
Wilmington.114 Masters‟, Mates‟ and Pilots‟ is the Deck Officers‟ union, to
which my stepfather and most of his friends belong, and I had been advised to
make contact with Capt. Nick Barbara if at all possible. Although we never
actually met, I had a long and fruitful telephone conversation with Capt.
Barbara and the union‟s clerical staff also referred me to Capt. Richard
Connelly, with whom I had a very profitable interview. Furthermore, during
this visit to the union hall, I had occasion unexpectedly to meet the executive
officer for the China Coast Chapter of the American Merchant Marine
Veterans of World War II (AMMVWWII), who is from the Marine Engineers‟
Benevolent Association.115 He provided a number of useful data. I also called
in at the Wilmington SUP/MFOW Hall, but the results of that visit were only
minimally rewarding.
A side trip to the small towns of Banning and Yucaipa provided me
with all that I had been unable to record during my brief shipboard chat with
Herb Wilson in San Francisco. I also called in to see Emerson Chodzko‟s
father, who had been a superintendent of longshore dockers during his
working life, and yet another interview resulted in a total of four hours of taperecorded material.
During a week‟s sojourn in San Diego in March, I invaded both the
Public Library and the San Diego Maritime Museum as well as getting in a
few good interviews. Two of the interviews conducted during this period were
with non-white respondents, which began to broaden the scope of the research,
and one was with another of my stepfather‟s ex-shipmates. Capt. Richard
Connelly, who had been recommended to me by Masters, Mates, and Pilots,
114
. Wilmington, California, is actually a part of Los Angeles Harbour.
. Usually referred to as MEBA, this union has two branches, to one or the other of
which most Engineering Officers belong.
115
gave me an interview, extensive bibliographical information, several photos of
the Merchant Marine Memorial in San Pedro, and a chance to view two superb
videos dealing with my area of study. He also suggested further sources to
explore.
While in San Diego, I had an extended telephone call with Capt. Gene
Harrower, curator of the Oregon Maritime Museum, who was wintering in
nearby La Jolla. Although unable to see me, he was full of worthwhile
suggestions for future investigations. We later had some correspondence by
mail as well, which supplied further invaluable data.
One additional stop at the Lane Victory was made, during which I
observed the mounting of a “three-inch fifty” gun in her stern gun tub, finished
off the interviews with visitors and actual watch-standers aboard, and had the
unprecedented opportunity to eat in her crew‟s mess a lunch (or perhaps more
accurately a dinner) prepared by Mr. Givens, the retired Victory ship Cook I
had met on an earlier occasion. This gave me a far better idea of the type of
meal actually served to American merchant mariners during World War II.116
The food was flavourful and hearty in nature. Although this was certainly not
haute cuisine nor yet “home-cooking,” it was very tasty and appealing as well
as nutritious and robust. This meal, a Saturday lunch for the volunteer workers
engaged in the ship‟s restoration, was served on the ship‟s heavy-duty
dinnerware by a staff dressed in “galley whites”, and eaten in the ship‟s mess
rooms much as it would have been had she been in wartime service. I was
given to understand that comparable meals would have been typical of those
served on American-flag cargo vessels during World War II. Later
developments in the fieldwork, however, have led me to the conclusion that
116
. The meal began with beef barley soup and continued through pot roast with
gravy and garnish, green beans with onion, potato pancakes with chopped scallions, toasted
French bread, to apple pie with cheese. Coffee and fresh lemonade were offered as a choice of
beverages. Even a garnish of chopped parsley was sprinkled over the meat as it was served -an informal formality.
both British merchant seafarers of the period under investigation and military
sailors from both sides of the Atlantic at that time might have expected a
somewhat lower standard of victualling both in quantity and quality and that a
similar Victory ship in a wartime convoy situation would most probably have
had a Messman to serve the meal at table, rather than feeding “cafeteria-style”.
My next move, in March, was to start eastward via interviews in
Bakersfield, California and Las Vegas, Nevada, to a visit with my stepsister in
Arizona, near whose home lived another interview subject, and then quickly
across New Mexico and to the Gulf Coast. I little knew at the time how
convoluted my schedule was shortly to become. Albert Precious, in Las
Vegas, proved difficult to locate, and the interview was exceedingly brief as a
result. My Prescott Valley, Arizona informant, Jack E. McGinty, graciously
loaned me his personal copy of a book by Robert Carse117 which I had been
anxious to read, and the Arizona AMMVWWII (American Merchant Marine
Veterans of World War II) representative, John Forsberg, in Fort Apache,
invited me to drop by, saying he was certain he could line up a few interviews
locally. Not only did he produce five interviewees, but he also put me in
contact with the New Mexico branch of AMMVWWII, which connection
brought an additional two interviews my way. I unfortunately found myself
unable to visit the fabled Merchant Marine cemetery in New Mexico where so
many merchant seamen who died of respiratory complaints, especially
tuberculosis, are buried. It was somewhat amusing that so many ex-seafarers
had settled in the driest part of the United States, where there is no coast, but I
discovered most of those who lived here had either been Radio/Wireless
Operators or engine room personnel, which fact may perhaps have some
bearing on the circumstance.118 One of the desert informants, Ed Stanko,
117
. Robert Carse, There Go the Ships (New York: William Morrow, 1942).
. The flatness of the desert, like that of the sea, enhances radio communication
and the Engine Room is hot and fairly detached from the feel of being at sea.
118
allowed me to photocopy a booklet produced by the MFOW [Marine Firemen,
Oilers, Wipers and Watertenders Union] about wartime procedures, which also
included a number of personal experience narratives from union members.
In Albuquerque, New Mexico, the local AMMVWWII president, Pat
Brinkley, was a particularly interesting interview subject in that he was the
only man interviewed who had undergone a “line-crossing” initiation on first
crossing the Equator who felt that the rite had been not only unpleasant, but
dangerous, harmful, and unnecessary. Marty Hrivnak, my other New Mexico
interviewee, brought me a copy of the 1990 MEBA [Marine Engineers‟
Benevolent Association] calendar I had been seeking, as well as that for 1991
and a “Road Runner Chapter AMMVWWII” T-shirt.119
Proceeding to Texas, I approached a fellow academic, John Minton, for
information on how to find the Texas Maritime Museum. The Museum told
me I might find one of their freelance researchers helpful. He was Gerard
Mittelstaedt, the town librarian of McAllen, Texas, who graciously invited me
to come and “hook up my rig” in his driveway. I did so, finding the family
congenial and accommodating. We did some work with my computer discs
and I located more bibliographical sources, both at McAllen and at the
university in nearby Edinburg.
At length I arrived at the Maritime Museum on the Gulf Coast, where I
received mail which had been forwarded me. The director obligingly guided
me to a few prospective informants, only one of whom “panned out”, and I
moved on fairly rapidly towards Houston, where the weather was so
abominable I was unable to visit and view the well-known turning basin at the
end of the Houston Ship Channel. I did visit Galveston twice, but was unable
to make contact with the man recommended by the Arizona AMMVWWII.
119
. These items are with the Halley Maritime Collection in the Centre for English
Cultural Tradition and Language at the University of Sheffield in South Yorkshire.
On the first run to Galveston I visited the Rosenberg Library, a highly
commended institution, and stopped by the Texas A-and-M University at
Galveston Maritime School to check out the library there as well and see if
their “schoolship”120 professors might have anything to offer. One of them,
Capt. Steve Ford, suggested I ring his father, Capt. Frank Ford, when I got to
the Washington, D.C. area, and gave me the telephone number. I was also
universally advised to talk with Dr. Don Willett, but he was unavailable on my
first visit.
There was some sort of maritime museum/park nearby,121 but as it
advertised only a submarine exhibit, I did not go. This was one of my biggest
mistakes, since this display also included the only preserved “DE” (destroyer
escort) still in existence, but I was not made aware of the fact until some time
later.122 I returned to Houston, where I stayed for a day or two more, trying to
make contact with Dr. Willett and with prospective informants and typing up
tape tables of contents in my inadequate spare time. By this time, it was late
spring.
The contact with Willett finally established, I returned to Galveston,
where I lunched with him, discussing his doctoral thesis on the history of the
National Maritime Union (NMU) and various other bibliographical references.
This was one of the most rewarding episodes of my academic research in
North America, since this man‟s lines of enquiry paralleled my own in many
respects and there was never the necessity of defining the terms in which we
spoke, for we were both well-versed in academic and occupational seafaring
parlance alike.
120
. An academic institution for the training of merchant marine officers. Usually
designated as an “academy” or “maritime academy”, but not in this instance, and the term
“schoolship” is always acceptable..
121
. Seawolf Park on Pelican Island.
122
. The vessel so designated was the U.S. Navy‟s equivalent to the corvette which
proved so effective as a British and Canadian convoy escort. The one at Seawolf Park is the
USS Stewart.
I spent about a week crossing Louisiana, accomplishing little in the
way of actual work beyond the completion of further “TTCs” [Tape Tables of
Contents]. On leaving Baton Rouge, I noticed a destroyer, the USS Kidd, as a
floating museum in the river, and decided to pay a visit. There I was told of
the existence of the destroyer escort at the marine exhibit in Galveston, but of
course by that time it was too late to return. The Kidd‟s curator, Tim Rizzuto,
gave me a good deal of worthwhile bibliographical information, especially on
destroyer escorts and the men of the United States Navy Armed Guard.
I found New Orleans a city one could not navigate easily without
knowing the territory, especially in a “rig” such as my mini-motorhome, and I
was forced to abandon the projected effort to stop by the union halls there and
make only a brief stop. Moving through Mississippi and Alabama, I had only
one interview, with a Mr. Harvey Watson, whose nickname, “Pig-Eye”, had
been given him in infancy by his mother. He gave me to understand that he
had married under that sobriquet and until recently had even been listed as
“Pig-Eye” in the telephone directory, and that most of his neighbours would
not have known him as Harvey until the last year or two. This was quite
interesting, considering my investigations into nicknames.
A brief stop in the Florida panhandle was enough to convince me that
neither sufficient time nor money was available to reach prospective
informants in the southern regions of that state, so I proceeded to Georgia.
Savannah, Georgia was without a doubt the most gracious city I have ever
visited, also producing several good interviews. One, the only one of its kind
in the course of this research, was with an Army veteran who had been carried
on a troopship. Two more, both good but one totally delightful, were with exEngineers, and the final one was with a Master Mariner who was the docking
master and river pilot for a local tugboat and towage firm123 at the time of the
interview.
On entering South Carolina I made contact with Mr. E.J. Heins from
USMMVWWII [United States Merchant Marine Veterans of World War II]124
in Charleston and was collected by him the following day and driven to three
interviews, all with retired Master Mariners, one of whom had met his wife
aboard ship when she was sailing as a stewardess during the 1930s. Her input
as a mariner was very interesting as well, although she had not been actively
sailing during the war years. During the course of this day‟s developments, the
Charleston branch of the USMMVWWII presented me with a jacket125 and a
cheque for one hundred dollars towards the cost of my research. Since I knew
of two essential reference books126 costing approximately fifty dollars apiece, I
earmarked the donated funds to that end.
In North Carolina I visited Sailors‟ Snug Harbor, a home for retired
merchant seamen, and also called at the North Carolina Maritime Museum
where I purchased a book dealing with sinkings in “Torpedo Alley” as the
Atlantic Coast of the U.S. was known during the early part of the war.127 It was
unfortunate that the authorities in charge of Sailors‟ Snug Harbor had set up
the interviews there in a group format and it was thus more difficult to elicit
information from the individuals involved than it might otherwise have been.
The youngest of the three was seventy-nine, the middle one eighty-five, and
123
. Crescent Tugs.
. USMMVWWII and AMMVWWII are separate organisations, as is Combat
Merchant Mariners of World War II.
125
. This was a “windcheater” style in white fleece-lined nylon, with a representation
of the S/S Lane Victory and the words “U. S. Merchant Marine Veterans World War II”
emblazoned on the back in golden yellow.
126
. (Capt.) Arthur R. Moore, A Careless Word... ...A Needless Sinking (Kings
Point NY: American Merchant Marine Museum at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, 1983),
Rev. ed. with addendum, 1985 and Stephen Schwartz, Brotherhood of the Sea: A History of
the Sailors‟ Union of the Pacific, 1885-1985 (New Brunswick (USA) and London (UK):
Transaction Books for SUP, AFL-CIO, 1986).
127
. James T. Cheatham, The Atlantic Turkey Shoot: U-Boats off the Outer Banks in
World War II (Greenville NC: Williams and Simpson, Inc., Publishers, 1990).
124
the eldest eighty-nine, and between them they had both speech and hearing
difficulties. Also, a fourth man arrived about halfway through the interview
and began to interrupt and shout obtrusively. Apparently he was thoroughly
disliked by the others and the eldest and youngest left the interview shortly
after his arrival, although the eighty-nine-year-old returned when it was
evident that the disrupter had himself gone.
Before leaving North Carolina, I visited Ian Millar, a solicitor[lawyer]
who has been conducting private researches into the United States Merchant
Marine of the World War II period from personal interest. I investigated his
private library for bibliographical sources and was also given some
photocopied documents and duplicate copies of a book or two which he
thought might assist me in my work.128 During this period I also made
telephone contact with Mr. Kermit Haber of CMMWWII [Combat Merchant
Mariners of World War II] and received the names and addresses of several
more prospective informants in the “Mid-Atlantic” area.
Throughout the spring and summer, despite my mother‟s illness, my
parents continued to receive and forward my mail and our twice-weekly
telephone conversations concerned valuable research information as well as
personal and family topics.
In Raleigh, North Carolina, I attended a monthly breakfast meeting
held by Navy Armed Guard veterans and spent a further hour or so at the home
of the group‟s leader, C.A. Lloyd, where, although there was no formal
interview, I was once more allowed to explore a private library seeking
128
. David Irving, The Destruction of PQ 17 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1968)
and Jak Peter Mallmann Showell, U-Boats Under the Swastika (New York: Arco Publishing
Company, Inc., 1977 2nd ed., c. 1973).
informational sources and also purchased a book of personal experience
narratives by U.S. Navy Armed Guard personnel.129
Approximately a week in June was spent near Newport News,
Virginia, where there were several people to interview and a number of
museums to visit. The War Memorial Museum housed an extensive collection
of World War (both I and II) propaganda posters. In Virginia Beach, the LifeSaving Museum bookshop had several intriguing titles130 and I also interviewed
my first veteran of a prisoner-of-war camp. He had preserved his diary and
autograph book of that unfortunate experience, written on toilet paper, in a
plastic-protected notebook. It was fascinating, although I later had to make the
unfortunate decision to omit all such prisoners‟ reminiscences from the
finished study in the interests of limiting it to a reasonable size. Time
considerations precluded my visiting the Naval Museum, despite repeated
efforts to do so, but I did call at the eminent Mariners‟ Museum where the
library and the section with displays dealing with “power” vessels were closed
due to renovations in progress, but the bookstore area of the gift shop yielded
further bounty.131
Moving closer to the capital itself, I telephoned Capt. Frank Ford, who
told me that, although he himself had not been in the Merchant Marine during
the war, he had several friends who had, and gave me their telephone numbers.
I also visited the Smithsonian Institution‟s National Museum of American
History, where their Maritime exhibit was located, and obtained a researcher‟s
129
. United States Navy Armed Guard Veterans of World War II (Dallas TX: Taylor
Publishing Company, 1987).
130
. C. Brian Kelly, Best Little Stories from World War II (Charlottesville VA:
Montpelier Publishing, 1989) which I purchased and both Malcolm F. Willoughby, The
United States Coast Guard in World War II (Annapolis MD: U.S. Naval Institute Press, 1956,
1957) and Homer H. Hickam, Jr., Torpedo Junction (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press,
1989) which inadequate funds prevented my acquiring.
131
. Clinton H. Whitehurst, Jr., The U.S. Merchant Marine (in the 1980s): In Search
of an Enduring Maritime Policy (Annapolis MD: Naval Institute Press, 1983), which I did not
buy and John M. Waters, Bloody Winter, rev. ed. (Annapolis MD, et al: Naval Institute Press,
c. 1967, 1984, 2nd printing 1987) which I purchased as an essential reference.
permit for the National Archives. The videotape, “Full Speed Ahead”, which
was shown in the Smithsonian exhibit, was remarkable and extremely
enlightening. Had I been able to purchase a copy for personal reference, I
would have done so.
In the Washington, D.C. area, I managed to conduct interviews with
several people, including one of Capt. Frank Ford‟s colleagues, Capt. Vincent
Finan, who gave me extensive photocopies of articles and papers.132 I also
visited nearby areas of Maryland, where I called on colleagues at the United
States Naval Academy in Annapolis and interviewed two more men who were
probably the most impressive of my North American informants.
One of these latter was Mr. Edward H. Richards,133 a black man from
the British West Indies who had been one of the first to break the North
American colour bar in the deck crew. He had had a laryngectomy several
years before, but nonetheless gave me a one and one-half hour interview by
throat-talking. The effort caused him considerable and obvious discomfort,
but he nonetheless managed to tell his story articulately134 and with feeling.
The other was another of Capt. Ford‟s referrals, Capt. John Klocko. A hearty
older man with a comfortable home, he appeared relaxed, untroubled, and
completely at ease throughout the major portion of the interview, but
eventually the subject turned to the first Master under whom he had sailed
after obtaining his Third Mate‟s ticket.135 The ship was lost on the voyage
132
. Vincent Finan, “Maritime Labor Relations -- A Revolution -- 1935-1980.”
(Unpublished paper, 31 pp., undated) and John McPhee, “Looking for a Ship, Parts I, II, and
III,” (The “Reporter at Large” segment of New Yorker magazine, 26 March (40-73), 2 April
(46-86), and 9 April (45-79) 1990).
133
. I was referred to Mr. Richards by Mr. Kermit Haber of Combat Merchant
Mariners of World War II.
134
. I am told that some will read “for a black man” here, and consider my use of the
word “articulate” thus demeans Mr. Richards. I hasten to inform them that Mr. Richards was
unusually articulate by any standard, far moreso than many of the other informants and
amazingly so for one who was compelled to throat-talk.
135
. The word “ticket” used in this context signifies an official licence or certificate
of competence. The seafarer refers to his “lifeboat ticket”, his “AB‟s ticket”, his “Chief Mate‟s
ticket” or even his “Master‟s ticket”.
subsequent to Klocko‟s signing off the Articles and apparently the master was
also lost after displaying great heroism in saving a large number of his crew.
Capt. Klocko began to cry as he told the story, but, instead of asking me to
discontinue the interview, he took a handful of tissues, blew his nose, and
continued to talk until the tape and the interview came to a natural conclusion.
I shall never forget either of those men. Their endurance, composure and
desire that the whole story be told affected me deeply.
In Baltimore, Maryland, I paid a short call to the John W. Brown, a
Liberty ship in the early stages of restoration. For some time after her wartime
service she had been a training ship in the New York Harbor area and more
work was necessary to return her to her former state than was required, say, to
refit the Lane Victory after she had been “in mothballs”. Aboard the Brown I
purchased another essential book136 and was allowed to copy a verse which
appears elsewhere in this study, “Guarding the Frigidaire”.137 I distributed
some literature which had been given me by the Navy Armed Guard veterans‟
group in North Carolina, and had some enlightening conversations with
people, but no actual interviews took place.
I had been advised by a number of people to call at the Maritime
Institute of Technology and Graduate Studies (MITAGS), an upgrading school
run by the Masters‟, Mates‟ and Pilots‟ Union in Linthicum Heights,
Maryland, where my stepfather had studied for and obtained his Master‟s
licence. Capt. Nick Barbara had recommended that I speak directly to the
school‟s chief administrator, Capt. Elsensohn, but he was unavailable. On a
second visit, I spoke with the second-in-command, John Bobb, and also saw a
number of Capt. Barbara‟s artistic efforts in the Memorabilia Room.
136
. John Gorley Bunker, Liberty Ships: The Ugly Ducklings of World War II (Rpt.
c. 1972, Naval Institute Press, Salem NH: Ayer Company, Publishers, Inc., 1988).
137
. See Chapter Five, Section A for the complete text of this “poem”.
Capt. Klocko suggested I visit another upgrading school, the Harry
Lundeberg School of Seamanship, run by the Seafarers' International Union
(SIU) at Piney Point, Maryland. The SIU was to be one of the most useful
contacts made during the North American fieldwork. Not only did they allow
me unlimited access to the Paul Hall Memorial Library at the Harry Lundeberg
School and its associated archives, and arrange an interview with one of the
pensioners living there, but they also housed and fed me for five days on their
regular upgraders‟ basis of three full meals daily plus a “night lunch”.138 The
staff was universally accommodating and my gratitude to all those who
assisted me there is boundless.
The editor of the union newspaper, SEAFARERS‟ LOG, came from SIU
headquarters at Camp Spring, Maryland, to interview me and published a full
page spread on my work. She, Jessica Smith, and her colleague, Jeanne
Textor, instituted a campaign, albeit unsuccessful, to raise funding for my
research, and the Paul Hall Memorial Library undertook to archive and copy
all my North American field recordings and to send copies to the Northeast
Folklore Archives at the University of Maine at Orono, as well as to ship the
originals on to me at the University of Sheffield.
After one last fruitless attempt to reach Capt. Elsensohn at MITAGS in
July, I proceeded to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where I made contact with
Professor Kenneth S. Goldstein, a friend and colleague, who assisted me in my
efforts to complete my tape tables of contents. I also stopped briefly at the
SIU Hall in Philadelphia and at the Philadelphia Maritime Museum, where I
once more delved into bibliographical resources.
138
. This is the usual arrangement of meals aboard American-flag vessels. The
“night lunch” of cold cuts or sandwiches and leftovers from the day‟s earlier meals is not
standard aboard British-flag ships. See Chapter Five, Section A for a discussion of the U.S.
Navy Armed Guard and their frequent pilfering of this privileged snack. Note also “black pan”
and “hoodle” in Chapter Eight -- the British answer to the “night lunch”.
In Maine, I primarily spent my time catching up on tape tables of
contents. I did, however, make a trip to the town of Halliwell, to visit Capt.
Arthur Moore, the author of one of the two books I had determined to purchase
with the money given me by the USMMVWWII in Charleston, South
Carolina. This book, entitled, A Careless Word...A Needless Sinking,139 is the
most complete reckoning of United States Merchant Marine losses during
World War II ever compiled. I obtained an autographed copy of the book and
a good deal of source information before continuing north to Halifax, Nova
Scotia.
My first “port of call” in Halifax was the Marine Museum of the
Atlantic, where the staff was most obliging. I spent some time in their library,
gathering a plethora of bibliographical data, and also had worthwhile
conversations with both Marven Moore, the curator, and Graham McBride, the
librarian. The latter informed me that the museum is currently involved in a
project to take oral histories from Canadian merchant mariners of World War
II. The researcher is a woman named Lyn Richard. While in Halifax I also
had occasion to view a half-hour National Film Board video on the Halifax
convoys, entitled “Gateway to the World,” toured the restored corvette HMCS
Sackville, and visited the Wandlyn Inn‟s Convoy Lounge, a hotel bar
recommended by Capt. Connelly when I was in Long Beach. This bar
overlooks Bedford Basin, which was the assembly point for the North Atlantic
convoys leaving Halifax, and is decorated with enlarged photos of the basin in
active use for that purpose.
At this time, I managed to locate and purchase three extremely
worthwhile books on the Canadian contribution to the North American war
139
. See footnote 80.
effort through convoys and convoy escorts.140 I also conducted three
interviews, one aboard the Sackville with an ex-RCN [Royal Canadian Navy]
veteran and two with Canadian Master Mariners, one of whom was still
actively working as a marine surveyor. I then returned to Maine, spent a few
days at the Penobscot Marine Museum in Searsport, where I had once worked,
and returned southerly.
Before leaving New York State, I made two more stops worth noting. I
managed to make contact with Mike Gillen, who had conducted several of the
tape-recorded interviews with merchant seafarers in the archival holdings of
the Paul Hall Memorial Library at the Harry Lundeberg School. The final
New York visit was to the United States Merchant Marine Academy at King‟s
Point. I spent the night on their harbour-front campus and once more delved
into library holdings. In addition I visited the American Merchant Marine
Museum, located on the Academy grounds, and made the very congenial and
valuable acquaintance of the curator, Frank Braynard, whose interest and input
was as worthwhile as that of Karl Kortum at the National Maritime Museum in
San Francisco.
On leaving King‟s Point, I drove back through New Jersey and on to
Wilmington, Delaware, where I had scheduled two interviews. The first was
with Harry Kilmon, the second with “Tex” English, who had a fascinating
story about a sort of out-of-body experience involving a dream shared by
himself at sea and his mother and sister ashore. The last thing I did before
leaving his home was to telephone my mother in hospital. She had suffered a
setback, and I immediately started back to the Pacific Coast. I was not
destined to see her again, as she died shortly after six o‟clock the following
140
. Alan Easton, 50 North: An Atlantic Battleground (Markham, Ont.: PaperJacks,
1980 [1st printing Ryerson 1963.]); Hal Lawrence, A Bloody War: One Man‟s Memories of
the Canadian Navy (Toronto: Macmillan, 1979); and Frederick B. Watt, In All Respects
Ready: The Merchant Navy and the Battle of the Atlantic 1940-1945 (Don Mills, Ont.: Totem
Books (division of Collins Publications), 1986, 1st published Prentice-Hall, 1985).
morning, 20 August, 1990. I returned to my stepfather‟s home for the
memorial service, put my affairs in order, and proceeded to the University of
Sheffield, a little late, but still within the schedule previously set by myself and
my supervisor.
My first interview in the United Kingdom was the result of a chance
encounter with a woman on a Sheffield bus. She struck up a conversation,
perhaps because of my North American accent, and asked what I was doing.
When I explained my area of research, she said her father, who lived in the
nearby suburb of Dore, would be a likely candidate for an interview, and she
would set it up for me, if that would suit. I said that would suit eminently
well. Mr. Geoffrey Arnold was an excellent informant and gave me much
fascinating information, although he was not actually involved with the
Merchant Navy141 during the period of the Second World War itself.142
Not long after this “foot-wetting” I received an unexpected lagniappe143
from Don Bates at the Centre for English Cultural Tradition and Language
(CECTAL). He had mentioned my project to his nephew, presently a working
merchant seafarer. The nephew had subsequently sent Don a list of sources, a
couple of illustrations, and the address of the trade union newspaper for the
British mercantile marine ratings.144 I subsequently wrote them and received a
full-page “spread” quite as nice as the one I had received from the SIU LOG in
the States. This led to a number of positive responses from prospective
informants throughout the United Kingdom.
141
. Throughout this work, I have used the term “Merchant Navy” in its common
colloquial sense, to represent the entirety of the British mercantile marine. In actual fact, the
term applies with complete accuracy only to a limited number of shipping companies.
142
. As an interesting coincidence, while engaged in my writing-up, I met another
woman on a Sheffield bus and discovered she worked in the same place as does Mr. Arnold's
daughter, Jacquie Crowther. It transpired that she, too, had a father who had been in the
Merchant Navy.
143
. A lagniappe is a tip or gratuity, a little something extra.
144
. This organisation, once the National Union of Seamen (NUS) is now part of an
amalgamated union, the Rail, Maritime, and Transport Workers (RMT). The section dealing
with seafarers is known as RMT Shipping Grade, and the newspaper is THE SEAMAN.
In July of 1991, I made a trip to Belfast, Northern Ireland, to visit a
friend. Before leaving Sheffield, I wrote to the RMT145 offices in Belfast and
also to the Royal Naval Association which had been located by my friend, Dr.
Robert Holton. I received positive replies and viewed the trip as a “working
holiday”. Unfortunately, I was unable to make adequate connections with the
RMT people, but I did manage a rewarding two-hour multiple interview
session in the bar area of the RNA. After returning to Sheffield, I received by
mail, from the Belfast RMT, a list of seven names of prospective informants. I
had hoped to make use of this list on a second trip to Northern Ireland, but this
proved impossible.
Amongst the letters I received as a result of the article in THE SEAMAN
and of broadcasting my business card in all likely situations, was one from a
marine artist in Wales who offered bibliographical sources as well as the
names and addresses of at least two veterans‟ associations. I wrote letters to
them and, although I did not receive direct response from the individuals to
whom my letters were addressed, letters and telephone calls began to arrive at
CECTAL indicating that the North Russia Association had published a notice
in their newsletter, the NORTHERN LIGHT. One of these responses was a boxed
split-ring cover with clippings, typescripts and photographs carefully preserved
in plastic.146 This was easily the most impressive of the postal replies from any
area of the fieldwork.
One of the responses from THE SEAMAN came from a young man in St.
Nazaire, France, Bertrand Clément, who was producing video ethnography
documentaries and videotaped oral histories of contemporary seafarers. We
carried on a brief but fruitful correspondence which led to my approaching
several other organisations for information, their names and addresses having
145
. See previous footnote.
. The sender of this item was Ron Westerman of Cardiff.
146
been supplied by M. Clément. One of these resources, Missions to Seamen,
was unable to assist my research directly, but gave me a number of additional
society and organisation addresses. M. Clément, who, like myself, came from
a seafaring family, also sent me a picture of the St.-Nazaire pilot boat of which
his father had been captain.147
Before leaving Newfoundland in 1989, I had approached academics at
the Maritime History Group at Memorial University to ask if they could
suggest other researchers whom I should approach for information during my
fieldwork. One of the names thus acquired was that of Tony Lane from the
University of Liverpool. When I first made contact with him in 1990, he
recommended his newly-published book, The Merchant Seaman‟s War,
discussed in the bibliographical resource section of this chapter, and invited
me to get in touch with him again, as well as suggesting that I go to the
Imperial War Museum in London and have a look at some of his collectanea. I
did so and was gratified to find that much of his research for The Merchant
Seaman‟s War paralleled the fieldwork in which I was currently engaged.
After several tentative brushes by post and telephone, I eventually went to
Liverpool and met Tony in the autumn of 1991. In the course of our
interchange, he generously offered to share with me a list of his own
informants, which I accepted with delight. Before returning to Sheffield that
day, I paid my first visit to the Merseyside Maritime Museum, which I found
very interesting but, like many museums, geared to an earlier period than that
which I was actively investigating.148
In October of 1991 I returned to Newfoundland to participate in the
annual meeting of the American Folklore Society. During my stay there a
147
. This was a large photocopy of what appears to be an excellent charcoal sketch.
It is now with the Halley Maritime Collection at CECTAL.
148
. “The Battle of the Atlantic” exhibit opened in the summer of 1993 and is replete
with artefacts and other items of great value to this research.
rather meaningful moment occurred. This was the fourteenth of October, the
anniversary of the day the ferry Caribou was torpedoed and sunk by a German
U-boat. I was also interviewed by the local newspaper and the Canadian
Broadcasting Company, as a result of which publicity I managed to arrange
and conduct six interviews with Newfoundland residents, five of them native
Newfoundlanders, who had been merchant seafarers during World War II.
Due to time restrictions several other interview possibilities were missed.
Further in-depth examination of the library at Memorial University disclosed
that enlargement of my annotated bibliography had made it possible to expand
on my past inquiries there. Even my host‟s father, who had served in the
Canadian Coast Guard during the Second World War, supplied me with
further avenues of inquiry.149 The informants assisted beyond the interview
context by bringing to my attention relevant books, newspaper articles, and
radio broadcasts, and I gained access to or acquired copies of as many of these
as I could during my short stay. It is unfortunate, however, that the single
stated objective of the trip beyond attendance at the Meeting itself was never
accomplished. This was a visit to the Crow‟s Nest, an officers‟ club for both
military and merchant services in the city of St. John‟s.
In the winter of 1991-1992 I suffered some severe setbacks due to ill
health and unfortunate circumstance.150 This was not, however, a time for
despair, but for regrouping and attacking from a different angle. In March of
1992, armed with the list of informants provided by Tony Lane and the
responses to the original notices in the SEAMAN and the NORTHERN LIGHT, I had
written seventy-seven letters, resulting in about fifty positive responses. Five
149
. The book suggested by Douglas Rutherford, Senior, was Tony German, The Sea
Is at Our Gate: The History of the Canadian Navy (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, Inc.,
1990).
150
. I was unexpectedly diagnosed with a condition that made major surgery
imperative and almost immediately thereafter lost a case containing floppy discs which
comprised nearly all my collated research materials, and the back-up copies as well. The
subsequent time expended in the attempt to salvage as much of the lost data as possible
combined with the prolonged period of postoperative recuperation curtailed my activities to
such an extent that I effectively lost a year‟s work.
widows responded to say that their husbands would have been glad to assist,
but had died since Lane‟s original fieldwork; a similar number of men
expressed regrets that ill health now precluded interviews for which they had
volunteered earlier; and two prospective informants passed away during the
actual fieldwork period, before I was able to interview them.
Many British seafarers were decorated during the war for courageous
and gallant acts. Two such were among the first respondents to my original
journalistic queries. In the long interim period, however, one had become ill
and so regretfully declined an interview and the other, apparently offended by
the lack of an immediate response to his original letter, answered the later
enquiry by saying he felt that I could get as much information from a public
library and so as well refused an interview. This was unfortunate indeed, as
one entire chapter in Doddy Hay‟s War Under the Red Ensign151 was devoted
to the second man‟s experiences both at sea in convoy and ashore in the
Russian ports on the Kola Inlet. Of all my informants, only one Briton
asserted and subsequently verified that he had been recognised by a “Mention
in Despatches”.152 The others, like many of the North Americans, exhibited
commonly held medals and ribbons such as those for having seen action in
specific theatres of war or for having been torpedoed. Only a favoured few in
the United States had merited the decoration proclaiming them to have been
amongst the crew of a “Gallant Ship”153 and if any of my North American
informants had received personal distinguished service honours, I was not so
informed.
151
. Doddy Hay, War Under the Red Ensign, Chapter 23: “Long Days and Long
Nights”, 133-141.
152
. James Crewe‟s wife urged him to tell about receiving the oak leaf cluster for
bravery for jettisoning the code books when his ship, the Chilean Reefer was attacked and
sunk by the surface raider, Gneisenau. He showed me the clippings in his scrapbook.(HMC
92-22, TTC p. 4)
153
. The “Gallant Ship Award” was bestowed on a merchant ship which had
defended herself and others to the extent of destroying enemy vessels or aircraft.
I organised the remaining British informants into five groups and a
“singleton” and arranged to lodge with friends on the longer trips in order to
better accommodate both temporal and financial considerations. Because of
Tony Lane‟s home venue, the majority of the British sample were located in
the Merseyside area and, although I regretted not having a broader
geographical representation, I felt that, since Liverpool had been the major
convoy staging area for the “Western Ocean”154 during World War II, perhaps
the limitations in scope might be justified by contextual as well as personal
constraints. It is to be noted at this juncture that there were no non-white
informants among my British sample, despite the incontrovertible fact that the
crews of many British vessels were colonials from Hong Kong, the Indian subcontinent, the Middle East, and Africa, as well as British-born members of
ethnic minorities from such seafaring enclaves as “Tiger Bay” in Cardiff.
Stories were sometimes told about non-whites, by white interviewees, but I
never got a completely accurate racial/ethnic picture on either side of the
Atlantic.
Peter Crowther, a research associate at the University of Manchester,
offered me accommodation while I was doing the Merseyside fieldwork. The
first of these forays embraced three days at the end of March 1992 and resulted
in seven interviews totalling ten hours. It also showed me where my original
strategy was imperfect. My initial plans had been made using a road atlas, but
since it was necessary for me to exploit public transportation in most cases, the
first requirement which became evident was that any further arrangements
must be facilitated by use of a railway map of Merseyside.
Almost immediately on my return to Sheffield I left again for further
fieldwork, this time in the South. On the train to London I had the fortuitous
154
. The North Atlantic is frequently so-called by the British seafarer and the term in
this context is widely understood.
occasion to share a table with a man who had begun his career as a marine
Engineer, but been made redundant. Although he was too young to be
considered an informant for the purposes of my thesis, we had a very lively
and interesting conversation. I then conducted one interview with a London
resident, Herbert Taylor, who met me at the Merchant Navy Hotel in Lancaster
Gate. Mr. Taylor was very articulate and had brought with him a copy of a
thesis he had written for the Open University, and which he generously
allowed me to photocopy before returning it to him.
On arriving in Bath, I was met by Andrew Aitchison,155 a research
assistant there, who had, like Crowther in Manchester, graciously offered to
accommodate me during my fieldwork. My first sortie from Bath was to
Plymouth, where I interviewed Fred Lavis, who had been a ship‟s gunner. I
was surprised to discover that he was not, strictly speaking, a DEMS156 gunner,
as those were all Navy men, but had been a volunteer from the Territorial
Army. He had handled a Böfors gun and smilingly informed me that the
Territorial Army volunteers had taken over the manning of the larger guns
from the Royal Marines, who “had better things to do”. Mr. Lavis also invited
me to a reunion of ship‟s Gunners near London on 2 May 1992, which I
regretfully found myself unable to attend, but beyond his service as an
informant in his own right, he gave me the name and address of a fellow
Gunner, Frank Brown, who lived in Bath on the same street as my friend
Aitchison! On returning to Bath I rang up Mr. Brown, called on him, and thus
completed two interviews on a day when I had only expected to do a single
one.
155
. Now Dr. Andrew Aitchison and no longer at Bath.
. DEMS stands for Defensive Equipment Merchant Ships and the gunners under
this programme both in the UK and Canada were naval ratings. Army gunners stationed
aboard merchant vessels were not properly so called.
156
On Tuesday, 7 April, I conducted a most rewarding interview with Mr.
Alan Kingdom in Southampton, then went on to Gosport with Mr. and Mrs.
Roy Williams. Williams was a mine of bibliographical information and Royal
Navy trivia in addition to being a voluble (and valuable) informant. On the
train down that day I had met two seafarers currently employed by Peninsular
and Oriental (P-and-O) Lines, who were returning to their ships after leave
ashore. One was a Cook and the other an Engineer, and again I had a pleasant
surprise and interesting travelling companions. My ignorance of British
geography proved unfortunate, however, as another of Tony Lane‟s informants
lived on the Isle of Wight and, had I realised its proximity to my venues in
Southampton and Gosport, I would surely have attempted to arrange an
interview with him as well.
On Wednesday I returned to London, where I visited the National
Maritime Museum in Greenwich and had another interview. On the train to
Greenwich, I shared a compartment with two ladies whose husbands had been
in the Royal Navy during the war, and they gave me quite a lot of information
about the game of “Housey-housey” or “Tombola”, which had been played
aboard ship.157 Unfortunately I was in a position neither to tape-record this
conversation nor to take written notes of it at the time, so I lost a good deal of
the information from my memory before it could be put on paper. Most of it
consisted of nicknames for the numbers called out during the game.
Despite the international reputation of the National Maritime Museum
at Greenwich, I found that, unfortunately, the exhibits which would have
proven my major interest had been removed in preparation for a presentation
which was to open that July. I did, however, locate several useful titles in the
157
. See Chapter Seven, Section A for a further discussion of this game.
museum bookshop158 and several more at a nearby maritime bookseller‟s
establishment.159
My one further interview before returning to Sheffield was with a
man160 who not only gave me an hour and a half of worthwhile data on tape,
but also provided me the opportunity of viewing two relevant videotapes and,
in addition, was very helpful in suggesting other references and printed
sources.
I returned to Manchester and thence to Merseyside in mid-April and
spent a week interviewing people who lived in the Wirral area. All were
gracious and forthcoming. One gave me four pages of collated information on
nicknames from a book he is currently writing for his shipping company.161
Another gave me his copy of the Tony Lane interview tape from the Imperial
War Museum in order that I might copy it for my own work.162
On leaving the last of the Wirral interviews I returned to Liverpool via
the ferry, which has now become less of a regular means of commuter
transportation and more of a guided harbour tour. I did get to see the original
premises of Alfred Holt (“Blue Funnel”) Lines and the Cammell-Laird
shipyards, however, and it was a vast relief to cross the river at least once on
the surface instead of by underground trains. The ferry docks near the Liver
Building, in an area where many incoming merchantmen docked in wartime,
and a memorial to Merchant Seafarers lost at sea during the war stands nearby.
158
. The best were Craig J. Forsyth, The American Merchant Seaman and His
Industry: Struggle and Stigma (New York, et al.: Taylor and Francis, 1989) and Ronald Hope,
coll., The Merchant Navy (London: Stanford Maritime Ltd., 1980).
159
. Capt. A.G. Course, The Merchant Navy: A Social History (London: Frederick
Muller Limited, 1963); George F. Kerr, Business in Great Waters (London: Faber, 1946) and
Martin Middlebrook, Convoy: The Battle for Convoys SC.122 and HX.229 (London: Penguin
[Allen Lane], 1976).
160
. An East Sussex resident, he preferred , for personal reasons, that his name not
be used.
161
. The informant was Capt. Graeme Cubbin, and the book is to be a history of the
vessels owned and managed by the T. and J. Harrison company.
162
. This informant was Thomas Killips. Although J.H. Shackleton offered to send
an already made copy of his own interview with Lane, he apparently was unable to do so.
It is quite impressive, but not as overtly dramatic or conducive to
sentimentality as that located in the Port of Los Angeles.163
On the first week of May I returned to Crowther‟s house, now a “home
from home”, and spent a week interviewing people in Liverpool proper. Again
all were generous and forthcoming. The most difficult interview was the one
with “Timy”164 McCoy, who had been a POW and had compiled his maritime
and prison-camp reminiscences into what he called his “script”, an impressive
spiral-bound work, of which he gave me a copy. Mr. McCoy was extremely
gracious and certainly voluble enough, but he had his own story outline in his
mind and it was therefore difficult to lead him into answering my specific
questions rather than elaborating upon his own themes. The most useful visit
of the week was that with Barney Lafferty, who even telephoned me in
Manchester to include information he had remembered after I had left his
home.
During this research trip my host, Peter Crowther, a computer scientist,
set up a computer terminal at his home to correspond with my format, so that I
might not lose time working on my TTCs.165 As a result, I finished the
organisation of my materials much more rapidly than I would otherwise have
done and was able to expedite progress to the writing stage significantly.166
Between this and my final Merseyside expedition, I had a joint
interview in Mansfield with two men who had served in the Royal Navy on
convoy escort vessels. I was conveyed to this interview in the car of Peter
163
. The Port of Los Angeles is located in the city of San Pedro, California and a
photograph of the memorial there forms the frontispiece of this work. It is mentioned toward
the beginning of this Section.
164
. Mr. McCoy uses this spelling, but pronounces his name “Timmy”. Although
his given name is Thomas, he was thus nicknamed after an early star of cinema “Westerns”.
165
. Tape tables of contents.
166
. It was these materials and TTCs as well as the extensive booknotes taken from
several volumes acquired with great effort through Inter-Library Loan which were lost in the
box of discs and had to be redone from the ground up. The back-up files were lost as well,
since I had taken them all in to do an update.
Appleton, a considerate friend from the University of Sheffield, rather than
being constrained to rely on public transportation which would have entailed
almost prohibitive time considerations.
On the final week of my fieldwork, I again worked from a base at Peter
Crowther‟s Manchester home. Between interviews I managed to stop at the
Picton and International Libraries near Liverpool's Lime Street railway station
and there located several titles relevant to my research. Capt. “Laurie” James
during this closing period of the fieldwork provided me with nearly one
hundred pages of transcript from his interviews with Tony Lane. The very last
interview of the 1992 research was with Rex Rothwell of Radcliffe, in Greater
Manchester. He collected me from Crowther‟s home, gave me an excellent
interview as well as a printed datum167 that I had been anxious to locate, and
finally deposited me at Manchester Piccadilly Train Station whence I returned
to Sheffield.
One of the most interesting bits of information not relevant to the
current work was that two of the British informants, both deck officers who
came up through apprenticeship programs, had daughters who had followed
them to sea. Neither of these women achieved a Master Mariner‟s ticket; both
came ashore and married after serving several years at varying ranks. One,
now with a family, like so many men before her, has gone into marine
insurance -- left the sea in fact, but not in spirit. So my original dream has
been fulfilled by others.
167
. Ludovic Kennedy, “Convoy”, Saga (March 1992), 37-45. This article was first
mentioned to me by Keith Marshall, HMC 92-30, TTC pp. 3-4
C. ANALYSIS AND PRESENTATION
Following the first bibliographical investigations, I embarked on the
field collection described in the preceding section and both proceeded
simultaneously until autumn of 1990, when the groundwork of the writing
itself was begun. It is interesting to note that, despite extensive training in
“how to elicit information from a reluctant informant,” one of the first things I
learned in dealing with World War II veteran seafarers was never to attempt
too forcefully to persuade a reluctant person either to give me an interview or
to discuss a specific subject. The most frequently cited reason was neither
shyness nor embarrassment, but rather a desire to keep a traumatic experience
buried in the depths of memory and not to dredge it up again to a damaging
level. Despite this, almost everyone I approached for assistance was anxious
to contribute to the enterprise in one way or another, whether by suggesting
reading material, by telling me of a friend or colleague who would prove a
good subject for an interview, by recommending a particular library or
museum, or by other, similar support.
A quote-cum-paraphrase of Timothy Lloyd and Patrick Mullen from
Lake Erie Fishermen is entirely appropriate here:
[I was] open to whatever kind of traditional lore [I] might
encounter and [was] actively seeking folk beliefs.... However
these kinds of folklore were not forthcoming; instead the
[seafarers] usually talked about their own experiences, and [I]
shifted [my] attention to these personal experience narratives.
Over the course of [the] fieldwork, [I] began to notice
certain recurring themes in conversations and narratives (some
of which led to the organization of this [study]); as fieldworkers
do, [I] began to try to direct ... conversations toward these
themes, while still trying to maintain an open-ended situation.168
168
. Timothy C. Lloyd and Patrick B. Mullen , Lake Erie Fishermen:
Work, Tradition and Identity, (Urbana/Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1990),
xii.
Insights gained through tape-recorded fieldwork data were organised
into categories based upon recurring themes which arose both in arranged
interviews and in casual conversations with merchant seamen. The first areas
of my own personal interest to be sought were easily recognisable folkloric
genres: beliefs, customs and practices thought to affect the “luck” of a vessel
or a person for good or ill, and initiatory rites, ranging from such formal
ceremonies as “crossing the line” to the more colloquial “fools‟ errands” on
which “greenhorns” were sent. Also developing from the same roots, and
augmented by a peripheral interest in dialect studies, came the spheres of
terminology and nicknames, as well as the broader themes of occupational and
recreational techniques, customs, and pastimes afloat. From my supervisor‟s
suggestions and the interests of family and friends, I drew the subject areas of
attitudes and relationships. Comments were elicited on relationships between
the departments aboard ship, between licensed and unlicensed personnel,
between military and civilian seafarers, and between different ethnic, national,
and regional groups within a crew. Queries were also made as to what
impelled a seafarer to turn to maritime shipping as a career in the first place
and what his reasons for leaving the sea might have been. These inquiries led
to further comments, not formally solicited, about the seafarer‟s perception of
himself within his occupational role. Attitudes of people ashore toward the
merchant mariner were investigated from the project‟s inception, since there
seemed at first glance to be a significant difference between such attitudes in
the United Kingdom and in North America. These apparent differences have
been affirmed by many of the interviews, but some rather astonishing
corollaries have also arisen, most of which will be elucidated in Chapters Five
and Six. The individual‟s view of the convoy experience in specific was
requested as part of the broader overview. Most interviewees were also asked
to describe any events or characters they perceived as worthy of note and
remembrance, whether the story was of an amusing or a dramatic nature.
These questions led to the acquisition of a substantial database of personal
experience narratives (PENs), which forms the paramount substance of the
fieldwork, but which unfortunately had to be laid aside from the finished study
in the light of subsequent events.169
The topics or themes listed above were not all covered by the very
earliest interview questions, but as the fieldwork progressed, they developed
one from another, until the final research pattern was concrete, though not
invariable. The format thus evolved became so successful in eliciting the sorts
of responses anticipated, and in organising them into a workable format, that it
developed into the sequence of chapter headings and subheadings now
revealed in the Table of Contents. The resultant synthesis of these specific
areas of enquiry into the final sequence here presented was the end result of a
good deal of shuffling and rearranging, but the actual components never varied
after the outset.
It has been, of course, necessary to provide a certain amount of relevant
material on the background and methodology of the entire study, as well as
some basic information on the history and practical aspects of the convoy
system itself for the reader who might be unfamiliar with it, but after that
point, the areas examined were those whose primary data sources were the
interview material.
As in the interviews themselves, the first line of inquiry after the
essentials mentioned immediately above was why one would choose to go to
sea in the first place, and allied to that -- why leave the sea, if one enjoys the
seafaring life? These were fundamental questions which seemed to evoke
particularly interesting responses when geared to the period shortly before,
169
. The temporal difficulties created by the loss of the floppy discs and my health
problems rendered the full transcription and use of these data in this particular study an
impossibility. It is hoped, however, that full use may be made of them in a future project.
during, and immediately after World War II. General impressions of
shipboard life during the relevant period were also considered. A related
question was that of which watch170 was a given seafarer‟s favourite, and why.
These investigations were edifying, as they gave indications as to the general
character of the individuals with whom the study dealt. Further enquiries dealt
with the individual‟s view of the experience of sailing in convoy, including
conditions aboard and position-keeping,171 providing additional material for
analysis. The footing provided the study by these fundamental questions and
their answers was essential in establishing an ethnographic significance for the
project as a whole.
Until the present day, to the best of my knowledge, no academic work
has been published which has examined the physical and social conditions of
merchant shipping in general, but which has foregrounded the folkloric and
social aspects of the occupation. This appears to have been the case even
when the scope of those studies is limited to the convoys of the Second World
War. There is therefore an aspect of individuality and originality to the present
research which might have recommended it to my notice even without my
strong personal interest and involvement. After the ground elements had been
set in place, therefore, the analysis of the material and the early drafts of the
study moved forward, focussing initially on attitudes, perceptions, and
relationships at sea. This area, not one which gripped my interest at the
project‟s inception, became more and more stimulating as the study
progressed.
170
. A seafarer‟s work period. The word‟s meaning parallels that of a factory
worker‟s “shift”.
171
. This term is commonly used amongst North American seafarers to indicate
maintaining the position of a vessel within the convoy‟s established pattern. Also called
station-keeping or maintaining station/position amongst British seamen, this task took up
much of the time and attention of both Deck and Engineering officers whilst sailing in convoy.
Its vital importance in that wartime context was the subject of much comment within the
interviews, as it had and has little or no significance amongst the navigational duties of the
peacetime merchant seafarer on a ship sailing outside a convoy situation.
My personal interest as a folklorist had been aroused from the outset by
the search for recreational pastimes, folkloric practices, custom and belief,
initiations, nicknames, and terminology. Although this aspect of the research
produced fewer results than had initially been expected, nevertheless a
significant body of useful data has surfaced, including a quantity dealing with
my personal favourite topic, that of fools‟ errands for greenhorns.
Surprisingly, however, the area of belief and superstition was a comparative
desert, especially when contrasted with the analogous corpus of data gleaned
from fishermen and fishing communities. Seafaring terminology and
nicknames were fruitful fields in some interview contexts and barren
wastelands in others. Many of those interviewed said they recalled there
having been nicknames and specialised terminology, but that they could no
longer bring specific terms to memory.
Tape-recordings were numbered in chronological order by year of
recording.172 All the TTCs for 1989 and 1990 exist in hard copy, and all those
from 91-1 onward are preserved in both Microsoft Word for DOS 5.5, Word
for Windows 6 and WordStar 5 format on three-and-one-half-inch floppy discs
as well and are also on three separate hard disc systems for back-up and safekeeping.173 When data from the interview tapes are used as exempla in the text
of the thesis, they will be referenced HMC (Halley Maritime Collection) [tape
number, e.g. 90-43], TTC (Tape Table of Contents) [page number] or
occasionally TR (Transcript) [page-number], where applicable. The order in
which tapes have been assessed and information inserted is the chronological
order in which the interviews themselves were conducted, thus HMC 89-2
usually precedes HMC 90-6, which in turn precedes HMC 92-30, etc. If,
172
. For example: 89-5, 90-52, etc.
. A larger segment was originally retained on floppy discs, but after the loss of the
original database it was impossible to retype the previous holdings in their entirety.
173
however, a certain item‟s relevance in the written work is out of keeping with
its position in the collection, its relevance will be given priority.
Once the actual writing-up of the study itself was properly underway,
quotes from the database were inserted under the appropriate headings. The
specific areas into which the data have been grouped are based on the major
areas of information received, which in turn are based on the specific areas
into which enquiry was made. The process of selection was necessary for
several reasons. First, the sheer volume of collected data -- 165 tapes -- made
it physically impossible to completely transcribe the entirety of the collection,
much less to incorporate every item of relevant material into the study itself.
Secondly, it was necessary to choose specific topics for more detailed analysis
to avoid the problems which would have resulted from trying to cover too
large an area of data at one time. Thirdly, and resultant from the first two
considerations, it was necessary to decide what to dismiss from the
investigations and on what grounds.
Perhaps the most important area of investigation was that of the
“Personal Experience Narrative” or “PEN”.174 I had naively expected to be
able to use more of these in the text, in fact having outlined an entire chapter
consisting solely of PENs, but was forced in the end to abandon that project
and to mediate between the raw tape-recorded data of the informants‟ personal
testimony used and commentary or analysis. The only way effectively to
handle the massive corpus of data acquired was to encapsulate. It was thus
necessary to sacrifice a certain degree of authenticity in order to represent the
views expressed by the seamen, to draw out the essence of what was said and
relinquish the often prolix and informal style which, of course, carries the
conviction of actual spoken discourse. In a few sections, however, I was able
174
.
Lloyd and Mullen note that “Personal narratives reveal the complex intertwining of individual and social identity in ways
that no other verbal expressions can” and that they “are an important part of any group‟s folklore, a fact long recognized in folklore
scholarship.” Lake Erie Fishermen, xxiv.
to move to brief segments of direct transcription in order to give the full
flavour of authentic language and the men‟s own expression and speaking
style. For the reader who wishes to hear the actual words of personal
testimony, all encapsulated material is fully referenced to the tapes by means
of footnotes as described above. When such first-hand data is presented in
inset “quotation-style” paragraphs, an effort has been made, wherever possible,
to use indented first lines for those where the text is directly quoted or adheres
closely to the actual testimony and to omit such indentation when the
information is intensely paraphrased and heavily encapsulated.
The attempt to include both North American and British seafarers in
this study has given the task a virtually Herculean aspect. Despite the best of
intentions the fieldwork data has become slanted in some respects. The vast
majority of the British interviews, for example, were conducted in Merseyside
and with natives of that area. There are more Deck officers in the sample than
anything else and the British ratings seem to have a leaning towards the
Catering [Stewards‟] Department. Only one or two of those interviewed had
been born in a country other than Canada, Ireland, Newfoundland, the United
Kingdom, or the United States and none had retained such citizenship. More
than one informant expressed a wish that someone would extend work such as
this to include the other Allied participants of World War II, such as the
Dutch, Norwegians, Greeks, and Free French. Others have desired that the
research extend further into the British Empire -- to Australia, New Zealand,
Hong Kong, Singapore, and India. These are indeed worthy goals, but limits
must be set to dispose the task within the range of capabilities of a single
individual. Similar constraints had to be observed with regard to the convoys
themselves.
As a neophyte I believed that the only Second World War convoys of
any significance were those which traversed the North Atlantic between
England and North America or those dispatched from the British Isles to
supply the then Soviet Union through the North Russian ports on the Kola
Inlet of the White Sea -- Murmansk and Archangelsk.175 Since my first
fieldwork interviews were with seafarers on the Pacific Coast of North
America, I was soon disabused of that notion.176 There were far more sectors
of operation than these to be taken into account in a comprehensive study of
convoys, even those limited to British and North American involvement.
Fewer convoys of any size were active in the Pacific than in the Atlantic, but a
number of “round-the-world” voyages set out in convoy from San Francisco
and found their way eventually to New York via the Panama Canal or one of
the Capes, and toward the end of the War through the Red Sea, Suez, and the
Mediterranean. The entire voyage in such a case would most probably not
have been made in convoy, but major portions of it would have been. The
Malta convoys, too, as any serious student of the British war at sea will know,
were crucial to the eventual Allied victory, and there were yet others, the small
ones which “hopped” through the islands of the South Pacific or the Bering
Sea or around the coasts of India or Africa, and the ones which replaced the
Kola Inlet convoys temporarily after PQ18177 by supplying the Soviet Allies
through the Persian Gulf via a land route. In the long run, I decided to
maintain a focus on the North Atlantic convoys, but not to exclude the others
entirely, as occasional data of value derived from them as well, which were
innately too important to be overlooked.
175
. The latter was usually known simply as Archangel by most Anglophones.
. Rudy Jasen, HMC 90-4, was involved in four convoys on four different ships
between October 1942 and V-J Day. All four were in the Pacific. The smallest involved three
merchantmen and three escorts, while the largest incorporated sixty vessels. Allan Rynberg,
HMC 90-6, had no convoy experience outside the Pacific theatre. Bob Leach, HMC 90-10,
was only on one convoy, from San Pedro to Ulithe. Jim Cunningham, HMC 90-10, reminds
the interviewer of the Rio to Trinidad convoys, which were about a nineteen-day trip at eight
knots. William Kirby, HMC 90-13, had no experience except in the Pacific Ocean. Moreover
many British informants were involved with Indian Ocean trooping convoys as well as those to
Australia and New Zealand, the South Pacific islands and ports in Africa.
177
. The Admiralty code name for the last of the PQ series of convoys to North
Russia. When the North Russian convoys were reinstated some months later, a new
numbering system was used. The PQ series was discontinued because of the high casualty rate
resultant from the visibility of targets in the almost 24-hour daylight of the Arctic summer.
176
Among my informants on both sides of the Atlantic were a number
who had spent relatively little time at sea during the war, having been captured
and placed in camps or aboard enemy-held vessels as prisoners. These men
often had fascinating tales of the situations and conditions inherent in their
detention, but after some consideration I decided against using the experience
of their imprisonment in this enterprise, as it detracted from the original course
of the work and would have led to unnecessary complications. It is to be
hoped that someone else will undertake this particular ethnographic research
while these informants are still available for further interview.
As has been noted earlier, the individual convoy most extensively
described in print is PQ17. Also heavily documented are other North Russian
convoys such as PQ16 and PQ18, and the Malta runs such as „Pedestal‟.
Gleichauf, in Unsung Sailors, his paean to the U.S. Navy Armed Guard, makes
the point that “The Murmansk run was rivalled in hazard and losses only by
the supply run to Malta...”178 and that has made both noteworthy to writers who
prefer the sensational to the routine. For this reason I have chosen to devote
less of my time and effort to these well-known enterprises than to others which
may be less celebrated. In fact, in this study far less time and effort are
dedicated to the investigation of individual convoys than to exploring the
overall picture of “convoy” as a generality, rather than as a specific instance.
One notes with interest this observation from the Preface to The Red
Duster at War:
To include every event relating to the „Red Duster‟ would mean
many volumes. ... It is not forgotten however, that some of the
finest service was rendered by men who, exposed to all the
dangers, in ships both large and small, came through the war
unscathed and without spectacular adventure.179
178
. Gleichauf, 171.
. John Slader, The Red Duster at War, 11. The “Red Duster” was the affectionate
nickname by which the flag of the British Merchant Service was known, while that of the
Royal Navy was called the White Ensign.
179
This truism is all the more evident in the light of fieldwork such as the
interviews on which this work is based. Many informants who readily shared
their wartime experiences were apologetic for the lack of what one might term
“good theatre” in what they had to offer. What becomes more and more
apparent as one works with these men is that data of interest to the researcher
are not always those in which suspense, drama, excitement and action are
spectacularly manifested, but more often those in which a quiet self-effacing
statement suddenly puts the entire study in perspective. When Robert Imbeau
sheepishly said that he had rather enjoyed the war, because he was never in a
life-threatening situation, but was given the opportunity to travel as well as to
advance rapidly on the job,180 he gave a far more accurate picture of what
numerous seafarers experienced than does the sensational poster image of a
shark-encircled raft on an oil-slicked sea beside a sinking tanker in flames.
Both representations are legitimate, but despite the high percentage of
casualties in the merchant service, the uneventful voyage and the seaman who
“never got his feet wet” are still more typical than those who were
“hammered,” even taking into consideration those who were sunk more than
once and returned to sea each time.181 More British mariners were hit or sunk
than were North Americans, but again it appears to be more a factor of the
actual numbers and geographical locations involved than anything else. There
were more miles of North American coastal waters to begin with and far less
of those miles were in any serious degree of jeopardy than the perilous shores
of the tiny British Isles, especially in that area off the eastern coast which was
known as “E-boat Alley”.182
180
. Imbeau, HMC 89-5B
. Joe Milcic, HMC 90-5, was sunk, but by an expanding cargo of wet grain, not
by enemy action; Allan Rynberg, HMC 90-6, was under attack, but never hit nor sunk.
182
. This name was given to the area nearest the Axis E-boats‟ home ports -- the
Wold Channel off England‟s East Coast, the English Channel itself, and the limited surrounds.
Nor should it be forgotten that immense losses to merchant shipping occurred on the Atlantic
Seaboard of the U.S. before and shortly after that country‟s involvement with the war.
181
Slader notes that “more attention has been paid to the „liner‟ shipping
companies and some of the famous ships which they owned” despite the fact
that “[t]he brunt of the attack ... was often borne by that workhorse of the seas,
now virtually extinct, the tramp steamer;” and that “[t]heir personnel, unsung
heroes of many races and creeds, are not forgotten.”183 This again is
undoubtedly true when looked at from a certain perspective. Many of the
major liner and tanker shipping companies have company histories currently in
print, sometimes specific to the war years, which have either been subsidised
by the companies themselves, or written because of personal interest on the
part of their authors.184 A fairly large proportion of the remainder, however, do
deal with the tramps for several reasons. First and probably foremost, the
standard ships,185 such as Liberty ships, (“Sam” boats as they were often called
in the U.K.), Victory ships, Empires, Oceans, Forts, and Parks were primarily
employed as tramps either under the auspices of the War Shipping
Administration in the United States or the Ministry of War Transport in the
United Kingdom, and there were more of them by the end of the war than of
any other type of vessel. Second, a number of recent authors have expressed a
“gut feeling” that the tramp steamers and their contribution to the war effort
have been neglected and these writers have therefore taken it upon themselves
to rectify this perceived deficiency. Third, it has been a common failing of
professional writers to disregard the fact that many tankers were and are also
tramps and that many tramps also carry small numbers of passengers, thereby
183
. Slader, 11.
. See Section A in this chapter where such works are listed in footnotes 25 and 27.
185
. These were ships which were built to a standardised pattern. Books giving
detailed attention to the standard types were written by L.A. Sawyer and W.H. Mitchell.
Among these titles are From America to United States: The History of the Merchant Ship
Types Built in the United States of America under the Long-Range Programme of the
Maritime Commission (In 4 parts), (Kendal UK: World Ship Society, 1979); The Liberty
Ships; The Oceans, The Forts and the Parks: Merchant Shipbuilding for British Account in
North America during World War II (Wartime Standard Ships -- Vol. 2) Liverpool: Sea
Breezes, 1966 [2nd ed. 1990?] Sponsored by the Honourable Company of Master Mariners
[UK]; and Victory Ships and T-2 Tankers. I believe there may be a further volume dedicated
to the "Empire" class which was manufactured in Great Britain. The volume on Liberty ships
dedicates pp. 208-209 to those vessels sent to the United Kingdom as `SAM' ships.
184
confusing their own perspective of the issue. And fourth, but by no means
least, there remains the coincidence that a goodly number of seafarers
themselves, especially the English, looked down upon the “Western Ocean
sailor” who had served only aboard North Atlantic passenger liners as being
less of a mariner, less capable of fulfilling the duties that identified a true
seaman than was one who sailed on tramps.186
Although the current work, like Slader‟s, pays scant regard to ships and
crews of other nations, both Allied and neutral, their contributions were both
considerable and commendable and should not be overlooked.187 Again, the
omission has been on the grounds that insufficient resources were available to
permit their inclusion and not on the basis of any perceived lack of merit.
Throughout, I was mindful of two concepts perhaps best stated by Jan
Vansina.188 Firstly: “Interviews are social processes of mutual accommodation
during which transfers of information occur. If no social relationship can be
established ... the information will be minimal, often inaccurate, and usually
perceived as extorted under duress.” Secondly: “When a performance has
been recorded, the in formation acquired becomes permanent and becomes
testimony, whether the information is widely known or not.” Constantly trying
to remain conscious of both these important facts, I always sought to establish
an amicable social relationship in which “mutual accommodation” was easily
achieved and to carefully and accurately record all the testimony offered,
without being any more intrusive than was absolutely necessary under the
circumstances.
Because of the fact that a free conversation type of interview was
employed, the data included a wealth of material which was irrelevant to this
186
. Barney Lafferty (HMC 92-54, TTC p. 9), Tom Thornton (HMC 92-56, TTC p.
8).
187
. Slader, 11.
. Jan Vansina, Oral Tradition as History, (London: James Curry, 1985), 63.
188
particular research. Seafarers from the Engine Department have gone into
great technical detail to explain breakdowns and repairs. Deck officers have
given elaborate explanations of how convoys were arranged and numbered and
what the hierarchy of rank was. Even members of Catering staff have
specified the sizes of tins used, and described recipes or processes employed in
certain instances to produce specific desired results. Any researcher who
wishes to delve into the collectanea for information on these and similar
subjects will find copies of the data archived at the Paul Hall Memorial
Library at the SIU Harry Lundeberg School of Seamanship in Piney Point,
Maryland, at the Northeast Archives of Folklore and Oral History in the Maine
Folklife Center at the University of Maine at Orono, and at the Centre for
English Cultural Tradition and Language at the University of Sheffield in
South Yorkshire, England, as well as in the personal possession of the
researcher.189
After a simple introduction, the study proceeds to an overview of its
methodology, bibliography, and fieldwork, including analysis and
presentation. This is followed by a short history of the convoy system and its
practical aspects, drawn mostly from bibliographical sources. The subsequent
investigation of the individual‟s view of the convoy experience and of wartime
shipboard conditions leans heavily on extracts from the interview material, as
does most of the rest of the study with the sole exception of the final chapter.
Only the necessary background material has been drawn from bibliographical
sources.
The next segment of the work explores the informants‟ reasons both
for going to sea and for leaving the sea, as well as their major impressions of
189
. Any but limited access to these materials will be restricted to those who have my
written permission, however. At present only the Newfoundland interviews made in late 1991
are in the holdings of the Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language
Archive, under similar restrictions.
life aboard ship. Successive concerns are attitudes, perceptions, and
relationships of shipboard groups both at sea and ashore. Some attention is
paid to the seafarers‟ perception of themselves and how they were viewed and
treated by others ashore. This is where comparative analysis of the British and
North American data is most minute. There follows a perusal of recreational
pastimes and active genres of folklore among merchant seamen succeeded and
supported by a look at terminology and nicknames, which is the last of the
sections dependent on the fieldwork collection. The researcher‟s conclusions
form the bulk of the last chapter. The body of the text is followed by
appendices, which include a bibliography, a list of informants, and some
examples of typical convoy plans.
CHAPTER 3
THE HISTORY AND PRACTICAL ASPECTS OF CONVOYS
The convoy system has been used for several centuries as a means of
protecting vital merchant shipping from attack, either by enemy forces during
periods of war or by pirates and other such antagonists. Owen Rutter has
written the definitive work on the history of British use of the convoy system
up to and including the Second World War.190 According to him, the system
was initiated circa 1336, when convoys ranging from ten to two hundred
vessels and comprised primarily of wine ships were formed against sea-borne
predation.191 Collier convoys from the Tyne to the Thames, returning in
ballast, existed in dangerous periods from the Elizabethan era through to the
twentieth century.192 During the reign of the Stuarts, it became compulsory for
shipping to sail in convoy in time of war.193 Many shipping losses, even in
those earliest days, were attributed to merchant captains disregarding the
orders of escort officers while sailing in convoy.194
The circumstances of the merchant mariner have always been
hazardous. Ronald Hope surmises that the Elizabethan seaman‟s chances of
returning from an ocean voyage at all would have been no more than one in
five, and reminds us that the military navy exists only to protect seaborne
commerce and that Drake himself was a merchant seaman first and foremost.195
The necessity for such a tactic as convoy, then, must have been recognised
even during periods when the system was not in use.
190
. Owen Rutter, Red Ensign: A History of Convoy, (London: Robert Hale Ltd.,
1942).
191
.
.
193
.
194
.
195
.
192
Rutter, 12-13.
Rutter, 34-36.
Rutter, 58.
Rutter, 66.
Hope, The Merchant Navy, 13.
During the Napoleonic era, convoys increased in size until they were
far too large, unwieldy and dangerous to be viable. One such was recorded
which numbered six hundred merchantmen and thirty-four escorts. This
would have been far larger than even the most massive of twentieth-century
convoys.196 Convoys were unpopular with merchants of that generation as
well, since the arrival of many vessels in any given port at one time produced
an immediate glut on the market. Patrols were therefore assigned to the
regular trade routes and sailing independently once more became not only
feasible but desirable.197
During the late nineteenth century the convoy system all but
disappeared from use, reviving only briefly during the Crimean conflict, but
not coming back in full strength until World War I, when the modern form
began whose subsequent development resulted in what is now envisioned
when the word “convoy” is mentioned, and with which we are here concerned.
The only significant advance of that interim period pertinent to the modern
convoy of the twentieth century was that the Confederate ship Alabama during
the United States Civil War revealed how effective a steam commerce raider198
could be against merchant shipping and led to further research and
development of similar vessels first by Imperial Germany and later by Hitler‟s
Third Reich.199
In February of 1917, an unrestricted submarine campaign was begun by
the Kaiser‟s forces, inflicting tremendous losses on the British -- both their
196
. Jim Cunningham, (HMC 90-10, TTC p. 1), reported that he was in one of the
largest, comprising two hundred sixty-eight freighters, less than half the number listed from
the earlier convoy. Other informants, however, have made less realistic estimates. See further
below in later segments of this chapter. Also see Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Gretton, Crisis
Convoy: The Story of HX231, (London: Peter Davies, 1974), 25, regarding sizes and shapes of
convoys.
197
. Rutter, 88.
198
. The term “commerce raider” is commonly used by maritime historians to mean a
vessel, usually but not exclusively a surface vessel, on detached military service whose main
operational target is seaborne commerce during wartime.
199
. Rutter, 120.
merchant and military fleets. Within a week Lloyd George was considering
the reintroduction of convoys. Among other twentieth-century maritime
defence strategies initiated at this time, paravanes were employed against
mines200, and both torpedo nets201 and hydrophones202 were brought into use.
The results of exploiting these devices were favourable at first, but the
physical and mental strain on escort crews, both officers and ratings, was
appalling.203 Camouflage or “dazzle painting” and zigzagging tactics were
employed for the first time, along with “Q” ships which, guns concealed,
masqueraded as decoy merchant stragglers to attract enemy attention. The
depth charge, however, was discovered to be the most effective anti-submarine
device. Submarine vessels were emphatically not effective against each
other.204 Airships were being used as escorts and Scandinavian convoys of six
to forty vessels were common.205 “...[B]y the end of 1917 it was clear that the
convoy system had justified its purposes, and large concentrations of ships had
been proven to be little more liable to detection than single vessels.”206
Passengers took their turns on lookout duty and radio silence was observed.207
The Liverpool and New York Convoy Committees had been formed by
the end of 1917, and “A general speeding-up in turnround and in grouping
ships by speed helped to compensate for the loss of cargo tonnage.”208 Ninety
percent of Allied and neutral shipping in World War I sailed in convoy and the
Kaiser‟s forces, even augmented by U-boats, failed as had Napoleon‟s before
200
. Paravanes are small, torpedo-shaped floatation devices “streamed” from arms
extending out from the ship‟s side by thin, strong wires, and intended to catch floating mines
by their anchoring cables, sever these cables, and explode the mines in a single operation.
201
. These are metal nets which were also “streamed” from arms extending out from
the ship‟s side. They hung well below the water line and were intended to deflect or ensnare
torpedoes before these came into actual contact with the vessel.
202
. Hydrophones were a pre-ASDIC and therefore pre-SONAR warning device
whereby a waterproof microphone was depended beneath a ship to pick up the sounds of a
submerged submarine‟s engines, or of the crew within her talking and moving about, and
transmit those sounds to a headset worn by the operator.
203
. Rutter, 131-138.
204
. Rutter, 139-140.
205
. Rutter, 139-140.
206
. Rutter, 143.
207
. Rutter, 145.
208
. Rutter, 147.
them, to destroy sea-borne commerce. “Had it not been for the introduction of
the convoys system...the history of the world would have been changed, since
it was only the preservation of the British mercantile marine which saved
Great Britain and the Allies from defeat.”209
It is worth noting in comparison to the statistics of World War II that,
during the First World War human casualties were proportionally greatest
amongst the mercantile mariners when contrasted with the Royal Navy and
similar figures appertain to the comparison between United States Merchant
Marine and United States Navy casualty figures. Rutter cites losses of five and
one-half percent of the total personnel of the Merchant Navy in the Great War,
as opposed to four percent of the Royal Navy killed or died of wounds during
that conflict.210
At the beginning of the Second World War, naval authorities and
shipping companies were fully co-operative, which was an incalculable boon
to the merchant marine, despite the fact that the Admiralty had turned against
the convoy system in 1935, maintaining it presented great disadvantages.211
All the tactical devices and designs were ready to set in operation. Armaments
had been set aside for installation on merchant ships and some officers of the
Merchant Service already had the training necessary to implement the use of
such weaponry in defence of their vessels.212 It was not long after this that the
English Channel convoys were afforded the sobriquet “Churchill‟s Armada”.213
209
. Both this quotation and the paraphrases immediately preceding it are culled
from Rutter, 149.
210
. Rutter, 149. These figures are relatively comparable to the casualty figures for
the Second World War as well. See Chapter Six and Appendix B for further comparisons.
211
. Rutter, 153.
212
. Rutter, 154.
213
. Rutter, 190. It is interesting to note also in this instance that a photocopied
cartoon from the Daily Express 14 November 1942, obtained for me by my friend and
colleague Prof. Paul Smith, shows Winston Churchill dressed as the Pied Piper, piping “The
Convoy System” and drawing U-boats, rat-like, in his wake. See Appendix B for a copy of
this cartoon.
Travelling in convoy was safer than it had ever been. The hydrophone
of World War I had been replaced by ASDIC,214 a forerunner of today‟s SONAR
equipment, H/F D/F215 was being used by a large number of military vessels,
radar was rapidly developing, and aircraft were consistently utilised to protect
convoys at sea.216 This continuing development of more and more
sophisticated defence technology was imperative, due to the vast range of
enemy warships and weaponry against which merchant shipping had to be
protected. Aircraft, surface warships, and armed raiders had to be engaged in
addition to U-boats, but the efficiency of the raiders declined as the war
progressed, despite their early successes, and the only German aircraft carrier,
Graf Zeppelin, never saw active service. German submarine power alone,
however, became so advanced during the course of the war that it was nearly
able to overcome the Allies before its eventual defeat at their hands.217
Before the development of degaussing, one of the most clear and
present dangers to merchant shipping at the onset of the war was from
magnetic mines.218 Later in the conflict there was the peril of acoustic
weapons, both mines and torpedoes,219 and on the home front there were stories
of legendary and fictional weapons, both comic and tragic.220 The Allied
shortage of both escort vessels and rescue ships throughout the war was as
serious a predicament as it had been in World War I. Large convoys were still
214
. An acronym derived from Anti-Submarine Detection Investigation Committee.
. High Frequency Direction Finding equipment, manned by radiosignalmen, and
nicknamed “Huff-Duff” by its British operators on the grounds of the acronym.
216
. Rutter, 155.
217
. Martin Middlebrook, Convoy (London: Allan Lane/Penguin, 1976), 2.
218
. Rutter, 156.
219
. The antidote for acoustic torpedoes and mines was a device sometimes called a
“rattler” or “foxer gear” made of metal bars which, towed behind a vessel in its wash (the
water agitated by the propellors or “screws” -- only the visible surface area of this is called the
“wake”), hopefully made sufficient noise to draw the acoustic weapon away from the vessel
herself.
220
. As an example of the comic, my exceptionally helpful friend, Peter Crowther,
relayed the story of the apocryphal “Gesundheit” mine, as originally told by his paternal
grandfather. The mine, triggered acoustically, supposedly rises to the surface beside its target
vessel and releases a massive charge of ground pepper. If the response to the resultant sneezes
is “God bless you,” the mine sinks back to the sea floor, but if it is “Gesundheit,” the
explosives are detonated and the vessel destroyed.
215
imperative, but they were more troublesome to handle at sea, more vulnerable
to attack, and more delaying and obstructive in port.221
It must be emphasised that one of the reasons convoys to and from
Britain are historically notable is that her position in the battle for merchant
shipping was crucial. She was mistress of the vast majority of working
bottoms222 and her vulnerable island position “meant that all of her oil, most of
her raw materials and much of her food had to be imported.”223
It is now evident that the war at sea between merchantmen and U-boats
was essentially one of attrition of shipping tonnage, as German naval power
was not sufficient to impose a complete blockade on Britain.224
When a German U-boat captain torpedoed and sank an Allied
merchant ship, he had not only destroyed that ship, the cargo it
carried and probably some of its crew -- the British Empire and
America had more than enough men, war material and civilian
supplies to crush Germany. What the U-boat captain had
achieved was to deny the Allies the opportunity of transporting
many more cargoes to the vital war theatres in that vessel on
later voyages. The Germans called it „The Tonnage War‟. If
more ships could be sunk than the Allied shipyards could
replace with new construction, the Germans would inevitably
achieve a tightening stranglehold on Britain‟s supplies.225
If Britain had been successfully blockaded and “strangled” before Pearl
Harbor, she would have fallen despite the courage and tenacity of her people.
If the same had occurred in 1942 or 1943, the Allied invasion of Europe in
1944 would have had no base for departure and supply. “In either instance the
history of our times would have been immeasurably altered.”226
221
.
.
223
.
224
.
225
.
226
.
222
Rutter, 157-158.
This is the proper nautical term for commercial ships in active use.
Middlebrook, 2.
Middlebrook, 2.
Middlebrook, 2.
Middlebrook, 2.
Most prewar cargo liners and tramps were slow, their speed being
determined by financial constraints such as fuel consumption.227 The resultant
sluggish rate of most convoys was as uneconomic in wartime as nonessential
speed had been in peace. At seven knots or less, ships were easier targets for
the enemy and heavier burdens on the escorts. Longer passages made for a
fundamental waste of tonnage. Even the replacement ships built by British
and North American shipbuilders to a wartime standard of nine knots could be
criticised for their lack of speed, but the response was that “speed and
economy of construction are essential; the hulls of the standard ship can be
built in about three months, but the engines not so quickly; and there is a
shortage of skilled artificers, thousands of whom have been conscripted into
the Army.”228
Not all convoys were slow, however, and ships were
grouped so far as possible in accordance with their speed. Fast
convoys were particularly necessary for sending troops and
consignments of military stores to Malta and the Middle East,
and they required strong covering forces in addition to their
escort, particularly when passing through the
Mediterranean....229
Capt. Vincent Finan once arrived last at a convoy conference and was
therefore made Commodore. His ship was the Creighton Victory, which he
took out of the shipyard in Portland, Oregon in April of 1945 carrying
incendiary bombs to the U.S. Air Force in the Philippines via Palao. There
were about fifteen ships in three five-ship columns sailing at fourteen knots,
although his own vessel could make eighteen. In the convoy there was only
one navigational marker to make. God was on Capt. Finan‟s shoulder, he said,
as the buoy had been moved four miles without notifying the convoy and they
just missed running on the beach. He also laughingly said they had zigzagged
227
. Fuel consumption varies with the cube of the speed of the engine, and every
knot of increased speed greatly increases the cost of production: the problem is to get the
maximum cargo capacity for the minimum expenditure of fuel. Eight hundredweight of coal
may give a ship a speed of ten knots, but over three and a half tons are required to drive the
same ship twenty knots. (Rutter, 158).
228
. Rutter, 158.
229
. Rutter, 158.
for sixty-five days and he could not walk a straight line for a week
afterward.(HMC 90-59, TTC p. 3)
A U.S. Navy Armed Guard interviewed during the fieldwork recalled
zigzagging with a tow in a fourteen-ship convoy to Hawaii; a fast convoy to
the Marshall Islands for the Kwajalein invasion; a sixty-ship convoy, where
the Armed Guard had to act as signalmen on the commodore ship to send
instructions; and an “insider” submarine attack. On the last occasion, a
destroyer shot off two flares, which means “alert”, and roared down between
the lanes of the convoy, dropping depth charges which shook the ships and
“rattled” the people.(HMC 90-4, TTC p. 1)
One of the most frightening descriptions of a Second World War
convoy, in my personal opinion, came from Thomas Burton, a Newfoundland
informant, who described some twenty-five fully loaded troopships, all of
which had, before the war, been luxury liners230 with fairly high speeds231. In
his own transcripted words:
And of course now you wanted to know about convoys -how they sailed together -- which is a big outfit. Now we
happened to, because the Empress of Britain was a large ship
and a well-known ship, she was the commodore ship. We had
all the brains that be, I suppose, on our ship. We were the ones
that had to give the orders if anything went wrong and to put it
right. So we all assembled outside. You didn‟t stop, but you
slowed, for to get the convoy into position. And all liners, if
they‟re over twenty thousand tons, they must sail a half a mile
apart in case of something going wrong. And you got to zigzag.
We had to zigzag, which you went port five minutes,
starboard five minutes, and five minutes straight course -- that‟s
how they did it. And all ships had to do it the same time. And
if anyone did a wrong one you‟d probably be right up against
someone before you knew it. We were a twenty-four knot
convoy.232
230
. He specified the Queen Mary, the Aquitania, and the Empress of Britain, as well
as mentioning “P-and-O boats”.
231
. He says his own ship, the Empress of Britain, could do twenty-eight knots and
the Queen Mary about thirty-one, but they had to maintain the same speed as the rest of the
convoy.
232
. Thomas E. Burton, MUN 91-393, C14435, (HMC 91-7, TTC p. 4), near No.
148, Side B, recorded 16/X-1991, transcribed by Cindy Turpin, pp. 21-22.
So they virtually flew through the North Atlantic in convoy formation
at twenty-three to twenty-five knots of speed, zigzagging the while. The mere
concept of the extreme hazards involved in such an action is breathtaking. The
cargoes of these vessels were human beings; in the event of either an
accidental collision or an enemy “hammering,” not all would have escaped
with their lives. Safety devices and procedures, however well-considered and
technologically advanced would be insufficient in the event of such a
catastrophe, and the mere act of pursuing a zigzag course in convoy formation
at such a phenomenal rate of speed was courting disaster. Apparently luck was
with them, however, for Burton did not recount a catastrophic outcome to the
episode. In fact in his entire convoy career, he said he only saw one incident
where something went wrong in the navigation and even that time disaster was
averted.
But I only saw one in the convoys I was in -- and I was in a
few -- that some ship did something wrong. And b‟gosh there
was no liner hit, but it was just clearing her. It went on the
wrong course. And before they could stop it it was off it. But
that was lucky, there was no ship hit, but it could have been. I
don‟t know now, I can‟t recall which ship, but it was a bad do
anyway.233
Close quarters were commonplace in convoy, whatever the speed.
“Murph” Murphy swears that he was once in a convoy where ships were so
close to one another that the Armed Guard were throwing potatoes back and
forth between the vessels.234 Murph did not like the outside rows, though, as
he was an Engineer on tankers and being in the most precarious spot on a
highly vulnerable type of vessel was bad enough, without being placed in an
exposed position as well.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 3) Yet despite the proximity of the
other vessels, every ship was “a town of its own”.(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 8)
233
. Thomas E. Burton, MUN 91-393, C14435, (HMC 91-7, TTC p. 4), near No.
167, Side B, recorded 16/X-1991, transcribed by Cindy Turpin, p. 23.
234
. Compare this with later testimony in Chapter Five about firing potatoes from the
mortar-like “Holman projector”.
As the war progressed, so, too, did safety and survival precautions and
facilities for torpedoed seamen. More and better lifeboats, including the
requirement of at least one motor lifeboat on every deep-water vessel, with
further standard lifeboat equipment specifically designed to increase the
chances of survival were provided.235
Some merchant seafarers who came through the war unscathed voiced
superficial feelings of envy for their less fortunate comrades. Harry Kilmon
was often close to action and considers it “tough” that he was never actually in
it. More than once he went to sleep with a hundred ships in his convoy and
woke up with ninety-six. It could as easily have been him, but he was
protected by a “guardian angel”.(HMC 90-73, TTC p. 2) Capt. Frank Waters,
whose convoys suffered no losses, had friends on the perilous Murmansk run
and told me he was “kind of sorry he missed it”.236 In Unsung Sailors, this
“run”, closely paralleled by the run to Malta for both danger and apprehension,
is described with eloquence:
What was the dread “Murmansk run?” It was one of only
two practical deep-water routes available to carry vital supplies
to Russia, in order to keep it in the war. It involved a 4,500mile voyage from New York, through the dangerous waters of
the North Atlantic and Barents Sea to the north Russian ports of
Murmansk, Molotovsk, and Archangel, the latter two in the
White Sea. It was the preferred route because the other
terminated in rickety ports in the Persian Gulf, soon hopelessly
overcrowded and under-equipped. Vessels had to wait weeks,
and sometimes months, in blistering heat to unload their
cargoes, and the antique railroad and so-called roads to Russia
could not begin to handle the flood of munitions, materiel,
food, and other supplies coming in from around the world.237
235
. Rutter, 165. Among the additional equipment were an automatic wireless set
capable of transmitting signals over an eighty-mile radius, improved lifejackets, bright yellow
weatherproof suits, special fire protection for tanker crews, lights on lifejackets and attached to
rafts, more adequate stocks of food in the lifeboats, and enough water to maintain thirty-four
persons for a fortnight. Massage-oil was added to the first-aid outfit and each boat carried
blankets, smoke flares, and electric signalling torch and a complete tool kit for repairs.
236
. Frank Waters, HMC 90-1, TTC p. 1.
237
. Gleichauf, 170-171.
Although he considered the run to Murmansk the worst, William Finch
was always sent to southern ports during the war and did not reach northern
climes until after hostilities had ended.(HMC 90-27, TTC p. 2)
Like at least one other author238, I have been unable properly to
consider ships and crews of nations other than those of my immediate concern
(The United Kingdom, The United States of America, the [then] Dominion of
Canada, and the [then] Crown Colony of Newfoundland). Ships and crews of
other Allied nations and Commonwealth members were involved in convoys
and the general war effort in all theatres and it is regrettable that the limitations
of human frailty have made it necessary to pass over their considerable and
commendable contributions. Ships of the Axis powers underwent experiences
that paralleled those of Allied and neutral vessels and the lives of the seamen
aboard were not dissimilar or less worthy of study. It is to be hoped and
desired that these tasks will be undertaken by other hands with some
immediacy, that the stories of both friendly and inimical associations with
those described here not be lost to future generations.
Convoy conferences were official in character, but unceremonious. No
formalities were observed and the shipmasters and their subordinates who
attended were of a variety of types. Some wore uniform, but more dressed in
business suits. Chief Engineers and First Officers (Chief Mates/Chief
Officers/First Mates) were usually welcome to attend these conferences if they
chose and the Master often requested that the Chief Radio/Wireless Officer
attend as well, although this was more common at British conferences than at
those in North America. It was at convoy conferences that the Masters met the
Commodore and the senior escort officers for the convoy. Secret orders or
confidential books were issued; positions, stations, and general instructions
were established; warnings were given against dangerous practices, such as
238
. Slader, 11.
showing of lights or emission of smoke. To the Wireless Operators who
attended were distributed schedules of signalling and the appropriate codes to
accompany them.239 This was one of the Radio/Wireless Officer‟s primary
duties in most convoys, as use of wireless telegraphy or radio transmission was
permissible only in an emergency situation. Although the convoy‟s course
was fixed, positions and progress had to be established by dead reckoning for
similar reasons.240
In the United States, the convoy conference was often replaced by a
face-to-face meeting between the merchant Master and the Commander of the
Naval Port Authority, during which similar details were discussed and sealed
orders received by the departing skipper. In this case, the Master of the
merchant vessel was allowed to reveal the details of the meeting only to his
Chief Mate, and even Radio Officers were not privy to the Navy codes in
which they received messages. This seems to have been a more secure
arrangement, but perhaps less expedient in operation, as more time would have
been expended in decoding and carrying out orders if only one, or at most two,
men were sanctioned to handle classified information.241 In cases such as this,
convoy classes for merchant officers were frequently scheduled at various
Navy yards, and followed periodically by upgrading conferences incorporating
“book-sized memoranda” of “nautical homework” on tactical problems.242
Most outbound British and Canadian convoys assembled in a given
anchorage and sailed en masse, while ships often sailed individually or in very
small groups from United States ports and “made up”243 at a rendezvous point
239
. Rutter, 175-177. According to Capt. R.A. Simpson, then an Apprentice,
signalling “came into its own” at that time. Despite the primitive nature of many
communication and navigational aids, “secrecy was a fetish” and many normal practices were
forbidden on security grounds.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 3)
240
. Rutter, 178.
241
. Palmer, 256-257.
242
. Palmer, 260.
243
. It was common usage to say that ships “made up,” meaning they came together
to form a convoy at a specified point, whether actually in port or at a fixed co-ordinate at sea.
The latter was the slightly more usual meaning.
offshore, although some convoys out of Halifax, Nova Scotia did the latter as
shown by the following example:
The ship went to Halifax to pick up the first large contingents
of Canadian troops. Several small contingents had already
gone, both from Canada and from Newfoundland, which was
not yet part of Canada. They anchored in Bedford Basin, as it
took some time to get the troops assembled in the one port, then
they lay there for a couple more days until all the troops were
boarded, and they sailed. “Now that was something else when
we sailed.” They got about forty miles outside Halifax “and the
ships were coming from everywhere,” St. John's, Halifax,
Quebec, Boston, New York, making up the convoy at sea.
There were twenty-five ships, all large liners, which assembled
outside Halifax, not stopping, but slowing to get the convoy
into position. As they were all liners, they had to sail a halfmile apart in case of trouble and they had to zigzag as well.
There were specialised instruments on the bridge -- “zigzag
clocks” that rang a bell to indicate when to start and stop
zigzagging and when to change course. He only saw one
instance where something “went the wrong way”. There was
no collision, but the ships just missed each other. It was a
lucky break.(HMC 91-7, TTC pp. 3-4) Besides avoiding collisions
within a given convoy, one of the most serious considerations
for convoys leaving the British Isles, especially before the
United States entered the war, was the meeting of outbound and
inbound convoys and the synchronisation of the escort groups,
which took one convoy out through the Western Approaches
and brought another back on their return.244
All the coasting trade around the British Isles during the Second World
War sailed in convoy, but these convoys were administered in a somewhat
different manner from the trans-Atlantic variety. As Liverpool was the major
convoy assembly point for those groups outward bound to the west, so
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, with its history of collier convoys, was one of the
primary staging points for the coastal trades, but such convoys could be made
up at any of a number of important coastal towns. Two of the major
marshalling areas during the Second World War were Methyl, on the Firth of
Forth, for northeastern convoys and Loch Ewe for northwestern, as well as for
ocean convoys bound across the North Atlantic and to North Russia. The
trans-Atlantic convoys went by the Minches. Coming from London one would
go up the East Coast, being joined by ships from Hull (the Tees and the Tyne
244
. Rutter, 178.
as well), get to Methyl, and make up to go round Pentland Firth to Loch Ewe
to join an ocean convoy.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 5)
Coastal convoy conferences were less formal and the convoy formats
were narrower, usually only two lanes, with those vessels which would be
leaving the convoy first at the back, so that they could drop off easily and with
gaps for those who would “button on”245 later. Like the larger convoys,
however, coastal traffic was warned against straggling and informed of the
most effective defensive measures available.246 Convoys in English Channel
waters were more heavily escorted because of the more severe hazard
presented by both the proximity of the enemy coastal positions and the
likelihood of encounters with E-boats.247
Capt. Vincent Finan was with one convoy homeward bound across the
Atlantic from Port Said to the U.S., picking up ships all along the way. When
they cleared Gibraltar, they had about seventy ships to take to Baltimore at a
speed of eight knots. He also was in several coastal convoys up and down
from Panama and one round-the-world from New York, which included
Abadan.(HMC 90-59, TTC p. 3)
Some British East Coast convoys, especially those out of the Humber
Estuary, were destined eventually for the Murmansk Run to North Russia. The
point of embarkation was never directly mentioned, but “an East Coast port”
usually meant Hull. Since the Humber was also a direct air route, almost an
air highway leading to the major industrial centres of Liverpool, Manchester,
and Birmingham from military airfields in Germany and Central Europe,
245
. The term “to button on” for the action of a ship joining a coastal convoy was
common usage. Its derivation should be apparent.
246
. Rutter, 179-181.
247
. As noted earlier in this chapter, it was this fact that earned them the sobriquet of
“Churchill‟s Armada.” Rutter, 190.
bombs were often dropped there by enemy planes either coming or going.248
Even fishing vessels in that area sailed in convoy and had their own layout.249
There were far fewer organised convoys in the Pacific than in the
Atlantic, virtually none from the United States to Australia, New Zealand and
New Guinea. Whether there was a convoy or not depended to a great extent
on the ultimate destination point and the number of ships bound there.
Sometimes a Pacific convoy would consist of ten or twelve merchant vessels
with no escorts at all and there were seldom more than fifteen ships in the
largest. This was the antithesis of the situation in the Atlantic where most
vessels sailed in convoy and there was always a convoy to join,250 where
convoys consisting of forty to sixty ships were commonplace, and where they
were sometimes much larger.
Throughout the fieldwork for this enterprise, information was offered
me regarding the technical aspects of convoys -- how the vessels were
numbered and arranged, what comprised the chain of command, etc. These
data were not considered pertinent to the ethnographic aspect of the convoy
experience, and so have not been examined in any great depth. It is necessary,
however, for the non-initiate to know something of these details in order to
better comprehend those aspects of the experience which are investigated in
this study. Therefore a brief overview has been provided here.
Merchant vessels in a convoy situation were set up in columns. These
columns were numbered from one upward left to right (or port to starboard) in
248
. Information about Hull was obtained from Arthur Credland, curator/archivist of
the Town Docks Museum, Hull, Humberside, during my visit there in December 1993. It was
of particular interest in this respect to learn that the fishing fleet from Grimsby included
vessels named for Football League clubs and that therefore, despite some rivalry between the
ports, the Hull City was a Grimsby-based boat. Later, on 15 January, 1994, in a personal
conversation with Nicholas White, I was informed that the Sheffield United, the namesake of
the side I support, was refitted as an Armed Merchant Trawler and sunk on escort duty,
probably around 1941.
249
. As illustrated by the plans shown in Appendix B, courtesy of Arthur Credland,
curator/archivist of the Town Docks Museum, Hull, Humberside, December 1993.
250
. Robert Hiller, HMC 89-6, TTC p. 1.
an overhead view, front being up. Each column was also numbered from one
upward front to rear. The number of any individual vessel was a two- or threedigit number indicating column number first and position in the column
second. For example: In a convoy consisting of five columns of five vessels
each, the first (leftmost or portside) column of vessels would be numbered
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. The second column would be
numbered twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, and so on. An example can
be seen in the two plans of convoy SC42 shown in Appendix B. Compare also
the locations of the commodore‟s and vice-commodore‟s ships as well as
“coffin corner” at the left rear or after portside corner.251
The convoy commodore, usually a merchant seafarer with an unlimited
master‟s certificate, who frequently held a commission in the Naval Reserve252
as well, would choose a vessel as his flagship. That vessel would then most
likely be placed at the head of the centre column; in our theoretical convoy the
commodore ship would thus be number thirty-one, and on the SC42 diagrams,
it is the S/S Everleigh, number seventy-one. It was the commodore‟s
responsibility to chart the basic course for the entire convoy, including
zigzagging and other defensive manoeuvres and to convey such intelligence to
the other merchant masters, first at the convoy conference ashore and later,
while under way, by means of ship-to-ship signals. The entire convoy was run
by the Commodore. Military gunners and escorts also had representatives on
the Commodore‟s ship.(HMC 90-65, TTC pp. 1-2) As one man put it, “The
commodore controlled the whole shebang.”(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 8)
251
. See the two accompanying plans for convoy SC42 in Appendix B. The
handwritten one is a photocopy obtained courtesy of Ian Millar, a private researcher from
Kernersville NC, and the other is photocopied from David A. Thomas, The Atlantic Star 193945, (London: W.H. Allen, 1990), 93.
252
. This might be the RNR (Royal Navy Reserve), USNR (United States Naval
Reserve), or RCNR (Royal Canadian Naval Reserve).
There was usually a vice-commodore of similar capabilities aboard
another vessel in the convoy, in case the flagship was disabled or destroyed or
the commodore himself incapacitated or killed. The vice-commodore‟s ship
was generally one in a position adjacent to that of the flagship, but there was
no set regular position. In our theoretical convoy he would probably be on
number twenty-one, twenty-two, thirty-two, forty-one, or forty-two. The vicecommodore on SC42 was the master of the S/S Thistleglen, number ninetyone, also in the front rank, but one ship removed from the commodore ship.
Military vessels acting as escorts might be placed within the convoy
structure itself or might more often be in constant motion outside the set
pattern of the convoy, patrolling its perimeters. They would be under the
command of a Senior Escort Officer who hypothetically outranked the
Commodore, but seldom overruled him in actual fact unless in very extreme
circumstances.
“Fighting subs,” I was told, “is like swatting bees,”(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 8)
and various escort vessels, their differences and their purposes were described
to me in fairly minute detail. Many of the men interviewed specifically
mentioned naval escort officers, especially the famous “Johnny” Walker of
HMS
Kite. They explained armaments and tactics, systems used to entrap the
enemy, and the strategic positions in which escort vessels were stationed
relative to the convoy generally. One thing was made abundantly clear -- it
was acceptable for an escort vessel to waste time on the chase, but only for a
short while. She could not sit over a submarine‟s suspected submerged
position for four or five hours, as she had to remain on station with the
convoy.(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 8)
Capt. R.A. Simpson was in both coastal and oceanic convoys with
sizes that varied from as few as twenty or thirty ships to as many as a hundred.
Usually the oceanic ones were five to eight lanes across and five to ten
columns in length. He explained the system of numbering and said the
Commodore normally took the head of the middle column with the ViceCommodore located elsewhere. The Commodore was in charge, but the senior
officer was the senior officer of the escort, when there was one.(HMC 92-5, TTC
p. 5)
Among the duties of the Commodore were setting the speed of the
convoy, establishing its position, and telling it when and where to change
course for general purposes or for zigzagging. He was also responsible for
informing and correcting those who were out of position or who were making
smoke, showing lights, or otherwise jeopardising the group‟s security. If a
Master discovered his vessel was unable to keep position for a valid reason, to
the Commodore fell the obligation of considering the options available and
choosing that which would be most efficacious for the group as a whole. The
efficiency and discipline of the entire convoy rested upon his shoulders.
If rescue ships were involved in a convoy, they were inevitably
stationed at the rear, so they might pick up survivors from lifeboats or from the
water without obstructing other vessels. Exceptionally vulnerable vessels,
such as ammunition ships or tankers with particularly volatile or inflammable
cargoes might be placed in the rear, where their destruction would present less
of a hazard to the others, or in the centre, where they would present more
difficult targets.253 The after portside corner of the convoy formation became
known as “coffin corner” because of its vulnerability.
Convoy experiences could vary widely. Jim Cunningham reported that
he was in one of the largest, comprising two hundred sixty-eight freighters, as
253
. Richard Aldhelm-White (HMC 90-70, TTC p. 8), who sailed on RCN escort
corvettes, said that they tried to protect the tankers especially, always putting them in the
centre. This was not only because they were carrying fuel, but also because they would light
up the sky if they were hit.
well as perhaps the smallest, a Pacific “island hopper” consisting of the
Liberty ship Sara Teasdale and four navy destroyers.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 1)
Irishman Bill Fortune reported that his ship was re-routed to Glasgow the
week before the war. Forces personnel and stores were loaded and they sailed
just as war was declared, in what was perhaps the first convoy to sail from the
Clyde in World War II.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 1)
The magnitude of one of the large Atlantic convoys can be visualised
from this passage from Crisis Convoy by Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Gretton, a
Senior Escort Officer:
Early in 1943, Professor Blackett, the brilliant Head of
Naval Operational Research, had shown that owing to the shape
of these convoys -- they were wide but had no great depth -- the
number of ships included could be increased considerably, with
only a small increase in the perimeter and hence in the number
of escorts required. This self-evident truth had not been well
received by the Naval Staff which argued that an increase in
size led to difficulties in station-keeping and in manoeuvring
and control, and any change was resisted. But these
disadvantages were imaginary and by the spring of 1943, the
Naval Staff agreed reluctantly to increase the fast convoys to
sixty ships while keeping the SC and ONS [slow] convoys to
forty. Results were to show that Blackett was right and later
on, convoys with as many as 150 ships sailed safely across the
sea.
HX231, as one of the first sixty-ship convoys, was six sea
miles across and two sea miles in depth. (There were thirteen
columns, each containing four or five ships; the columns were
1,000 yards apart and ships in column were 400 yards apart.)254
A one-hundred-ship convoy is so huge the edges may be five or six
miles away from your vessel and there is no inter-ship “grapevine” or means of
communication other than visual or direct voice. The informant was in two
separate convoys in which vessels were lost without either he or his shipmates
being aware of the fact.(HMC 90-3, TTC p. 1) But convoys for tankers in the
Atlantic were smaller than those involving cargo ships, as tankers were almost
always faster, especially the modern standard T-2s. There were usually six to
254
. Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Gretton, Crisis Convoy: The Story of HX231, (London:
Peter Davies, 1974), 25.
nine ships in any given tanker convoy and they were seldom escorted, but
depended on their companions to see them through, apparently relying on the
theory that “there‟s safety in numbers”.(HMC 90-36, TTC p. 1)
Convoys were quite an experience. Eight hundred ships went to
Gourock for the Normandy invasions; that was the largest convoy ever.255(HMC
90-44, TTC p. 2)
Convoy in the Pacific was scarier, as Japanese tactics tended to
affect men‟s nerves more than those of the Germans. The latter would simply
shoot at you, where the former would stalk you and try to unnerve you
first.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3)
Capt. Dick Britton was never in the Pacific during the war. He was
primarily in North Atlantic and Channel convoys, but got into the
Mediterranean a few times. He was lucky, shot at, but never hit.(HMC 90-52,
TTC p. 1)
His major contribution was the datum that “FLAK ships” were used
prior to “baby aircraft carriers” and may not have carried cargo, but were
bristling with anti-aircraft guns. Positioned in the centre of the convoy, they
were a tremendous help. They had one on his convoy to Russia -- PQ15.
Britton was on the same ship from February 1942 until late July of that year. It
took so long because they had to wait in each port for a convoy to form. They
were among the last to unload in Russia, so missed the first returning convoy
and returned on QP13. He does not know the reason for the number
discrepancy, but believes the returning convoys were larger and, of course,
there were fewer ships to go back.(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 3)
As Capt. Ed March remembers it, there were about thirty-five ships to
a convoy in the fast ones. Some, but not all, of the slow trans-Atlantic
convoys of Liberty ships and the like in the latter part of the war were
huge.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 5) In fast convoys there were some well-known ships,
255
. See earlier in this chapter, where the participants‟ views of convoy sizes are
discussed.
like the Empress of Australia, but T-2 tankers still predominated with some
British refrigerator ships. They were all first-class ships in the fast
convoys.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 6)
Admiral King of the United States rejected the convoy system for quite
some time at the beginning of American involvement in the war. Capt. Earl
Wagner thinks this was very wrong. Not all the convoys in which he
eventually sailed were small -- some were twenty or thirty ships. They
disbanded as they went, but were unlike the tiny Pacific island-hoppers.(HMC
90-71, TTC p. 8)
A.
THE INDIVIDUAL'S VIEW OF THE CONVOY EXPERIENCE
Throughout the remainder of this study, the personal testimony of the
men interviewed forms the main bulk of the text. The sheer volume of the
material, however, would have made extensive verbatim quotes impracticable
to present in every case. It was therefore decided the best policy was to distil
encapsulated versions of selected relevant transcripts to give the fullest
possible information in the most concise form possible, whilst still preserving
the language and spirit of the original. The nature of encapsulation is such that
in order to retain as much of the character of the actual speaker as possible,
sentences are shorter and sometimes more disconnected than in most academic
writing -- more like conversation -- thereby preserving some of the flavour of
the original interview.
Individual informants gave a widely diversified range of accounts of
their personal insights on the convoy experience. As an Assistant Engineer
and a watchstander directly involved with convoy operations, John Pottinger,
at the “crotchety and creepy” age of seventy-six and with almost sixty years of
nautical background, still considered his convoy experience “limited”.(HMC 908, TTC p. 1)
Certain topics, however, recurred in the fieldwork data with
relative frequency. One was the vastness of the larger North Atlantic convoys
and the fact that communication while maintaining radio silence was so
limited, even within the same convoy, that several vessels might be destroyed
and the crews of others nearby still remain ignorant of the fact. The immensity
of North Atlantic convoys was so impressive to many that memory
exaggerated the enormous groups even beyond their actual magnitude.256
Despite the vast size of the North Atlantic convoys, it was possible in
thick fog to lose track of one‟s sailing companions entirely. Capt. Frank
Waters, an American, described having once been in a forty-ship convoy in the
North Atlantic, running into fog during the night, and finding his ship alone
the following morning. Capt. Waters, then sailing as Chief Mate, reported that
the “„Old Man‟257 was „drunk in his bunk‟” at the time. Earlier in the
interview, he said he had liked the North Atlantic. He had never sailed in a
Halifax convoy; all of his formed in New York out and Belfast home. He
described his wartime service as “uneventful”, saying it had no effect on his
life and that he has enjoyed consistent good health.(HMC 90-1, TTC pp. 2-3)
Perhaps the most frequently mentioned problem was position-keeping
within the convoy,258 as it was a major concern of both Deck and Engine
Departments.259 A subsection of this chapter has been devoted to its
consideration. The difficulties of zigzagging in large convoys and the danger
of collision were related subjects found worthy of discussion as well. A
number of men also mentioned the spectacular demise of certain types of
256
. One informant recalled that in the North Atlantic convoys there were about forty
ships in a row. This is larger than any modern convoy recorded in fact. However, he clearly
recollected the ammunition ships being placed in the centre while those carrying food, and
other such commodities were stationed on the outside, and this was factually accurate in many
cases.(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 1) Another respondent detailed the making up of a convoy in New
York and said there were up to 125-150 ships, which may well be an exaggeration. But he
also explained how the convoys were organised; what the vessels‟ speeds were; how far apart
they were placed and how convoys were numbered.(HMC 90-65, TTC pp. 1-2)
257
. The term “Old Man” or simply “O.M.” is a generally accepted and fully
approved method of referring to a ship‟s Master in the third person. It has no pejorative
context nor does it imply actual age. The “Old Man” may be under the age of thirty, in fact,
and may even be younger than the person who so describes him.
258
. Even one of my earliest correspondents, John B. Wilson, in a letter dated 9
February 1990, said: “The worst problem was station keeping.”
259
. Throughout this work, in order to provide a distinction and avoid confusion, I
have used upper case initial letters for the names of all shipboard departments, although this is
not always standard practice.
ships, such as ammunition carriers, pyrotechnic ships, and tankers with
volatile and explosive cargoes.260
Robby Owen felt that by 1943 the Merchant Marine was safer than the
German submarine service and that, once the convoy system and air cover
were established, “the U-boats hadn‟t a prayer”. “Convoys will probably
never happen again,” he said, “but they were a tribute to man‟s ingenuity.” He
recalled how they looked and said he, as an Engineering Officer, was amazed
at the intricate manoeuvres effected in convoy by Deck Officers, navigators
and wheelsmen. In the two years he sailed in convoy, Owen never saw a
collision.(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 1)
Quite a few of those interviewed expressed concern and regret at
regulations which forbade their vessels to rescue survivors of stricken craft
nearby. They repeatedly recapitulated the rationalisations for such action (or
lack of it) which they had been given at the time. Bob Imbeau, for example,
said his vessels had never picked anyone up from a ship that had been hit.
Ships were not allowed to stop. It was the escorts‟ job to pick
up survivors, as the convoy cannot be broken or collisions will
result. In addition, stopping might jeopardise essential cargo
and other men; you might lose other ships. He hated to leave
them behind, but knew the escorts would do their best; he hated
it, but it was justified.(HMC 89-5B, TTC pp. 6-7)
Veteran mariners also emphasised their distress at seeing men
struggling in the water, hearing their cries, and being powerless to assist them.
George Goldman, in October Films‟ video documentary “Forgotten Heroes”,
said, “...we could hear people in the water blowing whistles, the whistles that
were attached to the life jackets. But we couldn‟t find them. ... And you
260
. Robert Imbeau said it was really a shocking sight. One minute the ship was
there, the next there was nothing.(HMC 89-5B, TTC pp. 6-7)
could hear those whistles blowing and blowing. And I can still hear them
today.”261 John Manning said:
“The whole of the water was alight while we was trying to
get away. And all we could hear was screams on the ship that
was going down, and screams all on the water that we was in.
And the poor buggers was thick with oil and some of them
was...burning while they were in the water or trying to swim
through the water that was lit. ... Even the strongest man
alive‟d get frightened to hear the sound. Screams of big men
screaming and bawling and, „help -- help me, help me,‟ they
were shouting.”262 And another man in the same BBC
production added, “...the sort of thing that you could hear was
the sort of thing you -- you don‟t want to hear again in the rest
of your life. I don't anyway.”263
Many recalled, with a mixture of sorrow and self-reproach, the face of
some single individual to whose loss they had been eyewitness. The fact that
the ability to save the victim may have been entirely outside their own
capabilities and control made little difference to their feelings.
There was one of the ships torpedoed, and people were
swimming towards us. And at one time there was just this one
young lad, about 18[sic] or 19[sic] trying to get to us, trying
like hell to get to us. And, er, the tide just whipped him away
down the side of the ship and we tried to throw, I tried
personally to throw a line to him, and he -- he was -- he was so
frozen or so cold that he couldn't grab the rope and I kept
shouting to him and shouting to him, „pick it up, pick it up,‟
you know. Then all of a sudden he just vanished beneath the
surface of the sea. I did see him, and I could see him go down
for four or five feet or more out of sight.”264
Some were more phlegmatic, like Cliff Rehkopf, who almost casually
mentioned having seen corpses floating in the water, but appeared to have
been far less severely affected by the sight than most others. He seemed more
impressed that the convoys were so successful in synchronising their
zigzagging. He also cited “more than one old-timer” as having said, “If we
win this war, it‟ll be in spite of ourself,” and opined that such “old-timers”
261
. TimeWatch: “Forgotten Heroes”, London: October Films for BBC2, 12 January
1994. Post Production Script, p. 24.
262
. TimeWatch script, p. 24-25.
263
. TimeWatch script, p. 25.
264
. TimeWatch script, p. 29.
came up the hard way.(HMC 90-38, TTC p. 2.) Liberty ships had younger officers
as well as crew, according to Donald Gibbs, who recalls that an officer on a
Liberty was usually the bottom of the barrel; more experienced men got the T2 tankers and such.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 3) The tankers “Murph” Murphy served
in regularly carried up to six Cadets any given time, getting in their sea time.
Three would be Deck Cadets and three Engine Cadets; there was one of each
on each of the three watches. The Deck Cadets handled the telephone to the
destroyer, which had radar, on the way to Iceland in the fog.(HMC 90-30, TTC p.
3)
Capt. Paul Brick felt the convoy system was very difficult and the Navy
were as “green” as were the merchant marine. The Naval Control Board of
Shipping included older, very senior merchant seamen willing to sail as
convoy commodores. Many were retired naval officers as well. Capt. Brick
defined the difference between the Navy and the merchant marine by saying
“when you have bacon and eggs, the chicken was involved, but the pig was
committed. We [merchant seamen] were the pig.” It is not derogatory, he
insisted, but common sense.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 2)
Almost without exception those interviewed contended one of the most
distinctive aspects of the convoy experience was protracted periods of
boredom interspersed with much shorter and less frequent incidences of high
excitement and “adrenaline rush” and that, throughout it all, they, as
individuals, considered merely that they were doing their job, performing as
usual, if in somewhat strained and irregular circumstances.265 Reese Wolfe,
writing of this latter circumstance, noted that “officers and crewmen who
manned the merchant fleet were doing a professional job under war
conditions.”266
265
. Jim Cunningham and Bob Leach -- both American deckhands, HMC 90-10,
TTC p. 3, “Basically you just kept doing your job.” Peter Rogers -- English rating, speaking
of Engine Room, HMC 92-49, TTC p. 5, “We‟d just carry on our normal duties, usual
procedures -- greasin‟ and oilin‟.”
266
. Reese Wolfe, Yankee Ships: An Informal History of the American Merchant
Marine, (New York/Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1953), 253.
A few simply recalled that standing watch at night was boring.(HMC 896, TTC p. 1)267
Some, on the other hand, remarked that convoys put everybody
on edge, because everyone knew they were in a submarine raider zone. There
were long watches in blackout conditions and no smoking on deck. Bob
Imbeau did not remember it as “that bad” although occasionally ships from his
convoys were lost. He found it an eerie thing to run at night or in fog
surrounded by other ships one could not see and said “everyone but the captain
panics” in such a situation.(HMC 89-5B, TTC p. 3) “Del” Alley said, “The worst
part was the apprehension, especially at night.”(HMC 90-45, TTC p. 1) The only
time it was boring was waiting for a convoy to form.(HMC 89-5B, TTC p. 6)
Some few interviewees remembered both these sensations in opposition to one
another. Capt. Richard Connelly, who was only an Ordinary268 Seaman then,
held the main thing about the convoys was “the boredom of day-to-day routine
and the fearful anticipation of disaster”. All Capt. Connelly‟s convoys were
between 1941 and 1945 in the North Atlantic with one exception which went
to the East Coast of Africa. His “fondest” memories, he said, were of cold and
miserable weather. “There were days of routine, and then attack and fifteen
minutes of sheer fright.” He was too young at the time to realise the situation,
but there was always the anticipation of getting into port and meeting
girls.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 1) Some felt not much happened during the war years,
but that afterward there was lots of interesting action in European ports.
Today‟s container ships, unfortunately, have too short a turnaround269 for any
fun in port.(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 3)
Other men, as might be expected mentioned fear as well. “Well, yeah,
you were worried, you‟re constantly worried about it -- about U-boats and all
267
. But see the section below on “Favourite Watches” for those who preferred
watchkeeping at night.
268
. Throughout this work, to provide a distinction and avoid confusion, I have used
upper case initial letters for all ranks and ratings, although this is not standard practice.
269
. The term “turnaround” or “turnround” refers to the time spent unloading and
reloading in port from time of arrival to time of departure.
y‟know, but, no, with bein‟ in a convoy everyone‟s got a chance haven‟ they,
that‟s gonna happen. So we‟re all in line and you‟re that young at the time you
don‟ appreciate the fear early. I‟d be more scared now than what I was then,
lookin‟ back now.”(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 5) The feeling down below in the Engine
Room270 was often fear when depth charges were heard nearby, but for one
informant it was not fear of being killed but of being in the water with sharks.
In all his time at sea, his major fear was sharks; he was not worried about the
war, just sharks.(HMC 92-58, TTC p. 5)
One man observed that during wartime the bridge watch had to keep
position by observing the blue stern light on the vessel ahead and this tired one
more than peacetime duties.271 One was glad to get into one‟s bunk at the end
of a watch. Crews were also awakened often in the middle of the night by
alarm, attack, and so on, so tried to rest up enough to be prepared for
emergencies.(HMC 90-53, TTC p. 1)
And then there was the waiting. On John Klocko‟s second convoy, to
Havana, they had to wait at anchor in Key West for two days.
The convoy consisted of four barges, their ship, and two U.S.
Navy tugs for escort, across sixty or seventy miles of water at
four knots. They were sitting ducks. This was his first “asinine
Navy convoy”. When he returned to New York in the latter
part of August, he went to United Fruit Company and asked to
be taken off the foreign flag (Honduran) ship. He then joined a
U.S.-flag combination ship, carrying twelve passengers and
general cargo. U.S. Navy Armed Guard were being assigned to
the ship, which was also being fitted with 20-mm. anti-aircraft
guns on each side of the bridge and a four or five-inch cannon
aft. It was his first sailing with the Armed Guard.(HMC 90-63,
TTC p. 2)
Others expressed similar sentiments, saying the long, long wait, either
for unloading or for convoys to form, was one of the hardest things to
270
. Throughout this work, to provide a distinction and avoid confusion, I have used
upper case initial letters when referring to the Engine Room, although this is not always
standard usage.
271
. See the section on position-keeping.
bear.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 1) When the U-boat menace was over and the
merchant marine “re-neglected” by the government at the end of the war, the
convoy system was once more abandoned and all ships once again ran
independently.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 2)
Even at sea, the arduous and traumatic waiting was a matter of
consequence, especially to communications ratings aboard the
escort vessels. The most deadly, long-wearing situation was the
Atlantic. Worst were the foul weather and living conditions.
Hundreds of convoys got through where nothing happened. It
was like a chess game. The continual watching, “pinging”,272
standing by waiting for something to happen was the worst -Richard Aldhelm-White would rather be in action. It took a lot
out of you. They were fourteen days at sea, seven in, and then
another convoy run -- and they were slow convoys, too.(HMC
90-70, TTC p. 6)
Harry Kilmon once experienced a minor catastrophe in New York
Harbour, where huge numbers of ships were anchored, massing for a convoy.
His vessel let out too much chain on the anchor and swung toward another
ship. When the engine is shut down, you cannot fire it up and move
immediately; they bumped into the other ship before they could fire up the
engine; it was not severe damage. They then went Very Slow Ahead and
bumped another vessel. After that they had to leave the area and anchor with
less chain to swing on -- he explained how ships swing on their anchor chains
with tidal changes.(HMC 90-73, TTC p. 2)
Gunners did not escape the nerve-shattering tedium. How could it be
simultaneously boring and desperate? Fred Lavis, a Maritime Regiment273
volunteer from the Territorial Army, said his convoy was consistently under
attack while in Malta. Gunners were not allowed to leave the gun deck unless
272
. This refers to the sound of the electronic direction-finding equipment.
. These informants so described themselves, although the government booklet,
British Coaster 1939-1945: The Official Story (London: HMSO, 1947), 35, says they were
originally called the A.A. Guard and later the Maritime Royal Artillery.
273
they had an urgent need for the toilet. They made water274 over the side.(HMC
92-13, TTC p. 1)
When asked what convoys were like, Mr. Lavis replied that
one had to keep one‟s eyes open every second. They were monotonous, but
you had to stay alert.(HMC 92-13, TTC p. 3) The only time it was boring for Bob
Imbeau, in the Army Transport Service, however, was when his ship was
waiting for a convoy to form, which could take up to two weeks. They lay in
places like Key West, Florida, in sweltering heat, but could not go ashore and
were on call twenty-four hours a day.(HMC 89-5, TTC p. 6.) Thus the waiting
was repeatedly emphasised.
Most British convoy crews were young and inexperienced. They did
not realise that convoy was anything special. Then they suddenly realised how
apprehensive the more experienced men were, sailing in such close proximity
to other ships. There was always the danger of collision, especially if the
weather was bad.(HMC 92-25, TTC p. 1) No trip in convoy was “uneventful”;
there were always problems.(HMC 92-40, TTC p. 5) Experience in convoys was
always impressive. You had always to be alert, because of the uncertainty. “In
the Engine Room you can hear mines scraping the sides of the ship and hope
you don‟t hit the detonator. There‟s constant tension.”(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3)
Normal submarine attacks were either at dusk or dawn. At those times men
off duty, who had previously been torpedoed, could not sleep, but would walk
the decks, pacing up and down, for an hour or an hour and a half. Capt. R.A.
Simpson, then an Apprentice, remembered this well and believed it was
probably the time of day when these men‟s ships had been torpedoed.(HMC 925, TTC p. 3)
274
. This is Mr. Lavis‟s own term for urination, despite the fact that in “the Queen‟s
English” the usage would more commonly be to “pass” water. In nautical terms, however, if a
vessel “makes water” she leaks, so perhaps it extends to “taking a leak” or urinating. An oftcited message from the Dunkirk evacuation, sent by a sinking holiday steamer involved, which
carried the name of a contemporary celebrity ran something like: “Gracie Fields making water
badly. Requires immediate assistance.” Although a serious situation (the steamer sank and
lives were lost) this quote has nonetheless provoked chuckles for half a century due to the
double entendre involved.
One British respondent who shipped mostly on tankers said all his
service in the Pacific was sailing independently, except the first time they left
San Francisco with a drydock in tow. There were three other tankers, also
with tows, and they formed a convoy, but broke up after the first day, as they
realised they could not keep station with tows under the conditions.(HMC 92-41,
TTC p. 3)
Another said, “Well of course you‟re in, you were in the company of
other ships, which is, that itself was unusual, eh, for a merchant ship which
ran, run for days or weeks without seeing another ship and yet here you were
in, in company with all these other ships -- zigzagging, and with the escorts, of
course, eh, y‟know, like sheepdogs keeping control of the flock almost. And,
uh, of course, signals backwards and forwards to the, from the naval escorts
and so on, all very intriguing....”(HMC 92-63, TTC p. 4) The presence of escorts
and even just the other merchantmen in a convoy situation was sometimes
comforting, but there was always the unfortunate experience of seeing a
companion sunk:
Well, uh, I s‟pose you did get a feel, a feelin‟ of, some
feeling of security, of course. The black flag was flown when
an attack was imminent or in progress. Then you got the
“crump” of the depth charges.
The respondent crossed the North Atlantic in midsummer
and the weather was quite good, but on one particular day, at
evening, “there was an oily swell, but it was like a millpond”.
They were in convoy and one of the ships -- not leading, a
couple of rows down, but one of the leading ships -- “about
three o‟clock in the afternoon, a beautiful summer‟s day, not a
ripple on the water, but the swell was there” -- was torpedoed
as she was breasting the swell and she must have been carrying
iron ore, because “there was the explosion -- a cloud of cocoa,
like cocoa dust would be the iron ore and she dipped once I
think and then rose, and when she dipped a second time she put
her bow down and carried on going and as her stern came out of
the water, the propeller was still turnin‟.” He believes three
survived, probably on the bridge wings. Iron ore, because it is
not bulk, but sheer weight -- “when the torpedo struck, there
was a big hole and nothing to stop the water. ... And that‟s all
she did. She may have breasted two swells, takin‟ water
massively, and down she went, and the screws.... And in the
Engine Room they wouldn‟t have had, apart from hearing the
bang, they wouldn‟t know anything at all that had happened.
Down, too.”(HMC 92-61, TTC p. 4)
Certain ships carried anti-aircraft [barrage] balloons. “They formed
protection, not only for the ship, but for the convoy, of course. A barrage
balloon, the aircraft didn't like it, would they?” Of course, homeward bound
they did not have gas for the balloon, so they flew a box kite. One of the RAF
Coastal Command circling the convoy got careless and hit the kite wire
running up from the foremast -- a four-engine Lancaster or something. He had
about four hundred feet to spare before the wire broke, and could have lost the
plane “by not appreciatin‟ that‟s a kite and there‟s the ship and between them
there is a.... And he was our, uh, one of our escorts.” German Focke-Wulf
Condors circled outside range and were not even fired at.
I s‟pose it [convoy] was some comfort. The escorts,
especially these, the corvettes which were, which were turned
out weren‟t they, purely for convoy duty. Y‟know in, in a bad
North Atlantic gale, they suffered. ... The engines.... They
were lucky if they did fourteen knots or so. ... But the
uncomfortable conditions, aw, it was bad enough for us, but
uh.... At least, the only -- th‟ part about it, is they could do
something about it. Y‟know they could, uh, they could ... drop
depth charges and they felt they were doin‟ something. It‟s
when y‟ have to sit there....(HMC 92-61, TTC p. 4)
The Engine Room was not always a frightening place to be, however:
As far as we were concerned, we just used to carry on our
own routine of watch-keeping, and although you knew that you
were in a very vulnerable position and possibly twenty feet or
more below sea level, after a while you never used to think
about it. ... If you did think about it, it would worry you
considerably, but we never used to think about it and in those
early years ... we always got the impression she [the King Lud]
was a lucky ship. You say, „Well this is a lucky ship; and she‟s
escaped up to now.‟ and you just didn‟ used to think about it.
You used to carry on your normal routine. ... Fr‟instance we
didn‟ used to take our lifejackets down the Engine Room in
case you gotta make a quick getaway or an‟thin‟ like that. We
just used to carry on at our usual job.
Apart from hearing sounds of attack, there was not much to remind
those in the Engine Room of the war situation. There was so much noise with
a diesel that you could only hear depth charges -- a huge clang on the side of
the ship “as if somebody‟s whopping it with a hammer.” -- that and possibly
manoeuvres on the Engine Room telegraph (shifting speed or position) were
all they knew. They just carried on with their normal work. Deck work would
have made you more constantly aware of the wartime situation. The Engine
Room kept on with their usual jobs, oiling, greasing, cleaning....(HMC 92-69,
TTC p. 2) When
the lights went out in the boiler room after two or three depth
charges were fired, the pressure and water gauges on the boiler were
illuminated by “little pit lamps” for emergency purposes. This simile was
apropos, because the informant‟s shoreside peacetime job was that of a colliery
worker.(HMC 92-64, TTC p. 5)
Many North American informants, as well as a few of the British,
recalled the decimation of the United States tanker fleet on the Atlantic coast
by Operation Paukenschlag (Drumbeat), which resulted in “the greatest oil
spill of all time”. Of seventeen tankers torpedoed, Capt. Frank Waters had
previously sailed on three.(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 2)
Stories of collisions and near misses in convoy are anything but scarce.
Jim Cunningham's former shipmate, Bob Ross, was on an American President
Lines C-2, running alone, which had to pass through the middle of a large
convoy headed in the opposite direction. “This was scary -- too close for
comfort.” Cunningham himself was never in a convoy where ships rammed
one another, but he once saw a rammed ship arrive in port.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 4)
At least Ross‟s experience was intentional; not all were, and considering the
qualifications of some people who were navigating ships during the war, it is
not entirely surprising. In the last year of the war, 1944-1945, Capt. E.S.
Wagner was Chief Officer on a small tanker, but held a “Home Trades
Certificate”.275 Wartime makes differences. He left as Second Mate, but was
275
. A Canadian shipmaster‟s ticket which qualifies the holder to be the Master of a
coastwise ship, but not to command one running on trans-oceanic routes. A holder of such a
certificate might be addressed socially as “Captain” when ashore or when in command of a
ship in Home Trade, but would not be allowed legally to sail above the rank of Chief Mate on
a foreign-going vessel.
Chief Officer before he returned. When they left New York for Panama, he
discovered he was the only one navigating. He had only just turned twenty.276
It was a convoy of about twenty ships and their small Canadian tanker was at
the tail end. The Captain, who was from the Great Lakes, took sights, but
never recorded them. Wagner was the only real, trained navigator aboard.
The Third Mate had no certificate. The Chief Mate, in his fifties, had never
done any navigating. There were opportunities to grab. You grow up
quickly.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 3)
Convoy procedures such as zigzagging were “really a screwed
up mess most of the time. Anything that can go wrong on a
ship will -- multiplied by two or three sometimes.” A ship
moving correctly can run into one making mistakes. Mates
often stood on the wing of the bridge, cussing each other out.
One never knew if more ships would have been lost with or
without convoys. A lone vessel could at least take evasive
action if a torpedo was sighted.(HMC 90-17, TTC p. 1)
“The biggest thrill of my life” was how Max O‟Starr described it when,
in the North Atlantic, in January, he was standing at the rail and saw a wake in
the water, which he thought was caused by a U-boat‟s periscope. He had
actually started for the alarm when he realised it was the “log”277 of the
preceding ship in the column. He claimed it was more of a “start” than an
actual attack would have been,(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 2) and it certainly must have
been significant in his life, as he has retained the memory vividly for fifty
years. And Charlie Baca, a U.S. Navy Armed Guard, remembered one
occasion when the merchantman on which he served only just avoided firing
upon an American submarine, mistaking it for an enemy vessel.(HMC 90-23,
TTC p. 1)
But Capt. R.A. Simpson told of being in a coastal two-lane convoy
which was suddenly bombarded by huge shells. It transpired that a “friendly”
battleship, either HMS Rodney or HMS Nelson, was having target practice. The
battleship was out of sight and the target was being towed near the convoy.
276
. His birthday is on Christmas Day.
. A device for measuring the ship‟s speed.
277
Luckily, there was no accident, but it caused a panic and the Commodore was
“quite steamed up”.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 5)
The Empire Stewart‟s maiden voyage was to Saint John, New
Brunswick and she returned in convoy. There was bad weather
and many American ships were in the convoy. At night -about half past eleven, the helmsman said she would not steer.
The Third Mate, Tony Wrench, checked and she would not
answer the helm. They were in the middle of the convoy and
she started to turn in a circle, so he quickly put up two red
lights for “not under command” (i.e. out of control) on the
“Christmas tree” signalling support device. American ships
were great on repeating messages before they were read and
understood, so several of them repeated “not under command”.
“The Commodore must've had a baby!” They had a lot of close
shaves and once abandoned the Engine Room out of fear that
they would be rammed by a tanker, but she missed them. They
eventually came to a halt and were passed by the convoy. One
of the cylinders controlling the quadrant that works the rudder
had fractured and could not be repaired, so they had to jury-rig
one with the warping winch across the after end of the ship.
Meantime daylight had arrived. A corvette escort had stayed
with them for protection, but the weather was so bad they had
to make a lee to protect her, and they were only 5500 tons
themselves. They got going with the jury-rigged rudder and
headed straight for the Clyde. It took them only three days and
they beat the convoy.(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 1)
Another convoy in that ship went to India after the Normandy landings,
training troops in Bombay Harbour -- Indian Engineers. They were judged
unsuitable for the Burmese landings, however, and so were sent to South
Africa and then South America, eventually joining a homeward bound convoy
from Freetown, West Africa, in March of 1945. The war at sea was virtually
over, but there were still a few subs about. The Empire Stewart had torpedo
nets on sixty-foot booms and was sometimes ordered to “stream” them in
convoy, so she was always placed on the outside row. The Captain did not
like streaming the nets. It was a lot of work and made the ship hard to handle - a general pain in the neck -- so he always made excuses (the winches are
broken, etc.) They were never streamed but once, on a convoy across the Bay
of Biscay to the English Channel. They were ordered to stream them and the
skipper refused. The Commodore replied that according to his records they
had never streamed their nets and he became adamant -- so they streamed the
nets. It was not that bad. The convoy entered the Channel in two columns and
the Empire Stewart was in the northerly column, nearest the English coast.
Tony Wrench was the Third Mate on the 8-12 watch. The Second Mate had
just come up to relieve him and they were in fog, so were following the fog
buoy of the ship ahead, as they had no radar at that time. Wrench had just
turned in when he heard the Second on the bridge shout “Hard aport!” and the
ship heeled over. Since Wrench had never been in a ship that had been hit, he
thought that was what had happened, but...what happened was that their
convoy up-Channel had met a down-Channel convoy in the middle of the
night. Their starboard booms had swept the decks of a Liberty ship going in
the opposite direction, taking his Oerlikon guns, rafts -- everything was either
on the decks of the Empire Stewart or had fallen into the water. Their forward
boom had broken off the samson post and gone into the water, although it was
still attached to the ship by the net -- in effect they were “at anchor”. The
impact had caused all the “Curley” lifebuoys to fall into the sea and their
carbide lamps had ignited on hitting the water, so although it was foggy and
black, the ship was surrounded by sort of floating fairy lights which cleared the
fog somewhat, making her visible to both convoys and preventing collisions.
Eventually, approached by a destroyer which had radar, they cut themselves
free of the net, and were given a course to steer through the Straits of Dover to
London. The whole point is that the first convoy, when the steering gear went,
was 1 April 1944 -- it created havoc! And the second one, when the torpedo
nets were lost was 1 April 1945! So it was April Fool! But neither occurrence
was a prank. Wrench decided not to sign on for April of 1946, as it was too
much of a coincidence. It was enough to build superstition -- don't sail with
Tony Wrench on 1 April. They were a very young group -- Wrench was
twenty-two at the time, the Second was twenty-three, and the Mate, himself,
was only twenty-five.(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 2)
During the Normandy invasion, the Merchant Navy did not know
where they were going. They signed special Articles undertaking to do any job
on any ship if they lost their own (not through enemy action). It was a very
quick turnaround. Just before sailing, a van would come round with
replacements, and if the necessary rating or rank was not available, they would
have to take potluck -- a man with a Master‟s ticket might end up sailing as an
Ordinary Seaman. Luckily this never happened to Tony Wrench. It is a good
thing, really. The invasion was “great fun” convoy-wise. They came out past
Ventnor on the Isle of Wight. Just off shore there, was “Z-Buoy”,278 where the
first and second columns of the convoys would turn to cross the Channel for
the Normandy beaches. If you were lucky enough to be in the column heading
for the buoy, you had to make a ninety-degree turn. Most navigators and
steersmen tried to imagine the buoy was a mine and avoid it at the last
moment. Eventually this practice wore all the paint off the buoy. Talking
after the event, seamen always asked one another, “Did you ever go to ZBuoy?”(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 3)
The war started when Tom Brunskill‟s ship was in Port Said and they
sailed in convoy. They had never been in convoy before, but had to be trained
by the Royal Navy. The Commodore was on the leading ship and they were
told if they heard “so many” blows on the whistle they were to turn “so many”
degrees to port, “so many” to starboard, etc. Mr. Brunskill came off watch
after the 4-8 watch and got into bed. He heard a whistle, then a terrible crash,
and thought they had been torpedoed already. The door opened, and there
stood the Chief Engineer with his “panic bag”279 and said, “We‟ve had it.”
Brunskill asked how they were “down below” (i.e., in the Engine Room). The
Chief answered that he did not know, but was going to the lifeboats. Brunskill
278
. This (pronounced Zed-buoy, in the English fashion) was probably the same
locus others have nicknamed “Piccadilly Circus”, but there seems to be no way of readily
verifying the supposition.
279
. See the Glossary in Chapter Eight for a full description of this item.
went to the Engine Room telegraph and whistled down. The Fourth Engineer
there was a man who never went ashore unless in uniform. They called him
“The Admiral”. Brunskill asked if all was okay, and he said yes, they were not
shipping water, but wanted to know what had happened. The Chief had gone
to the lifeboat, and Mr. Brunskill himself did not know, so he went to see the
Captain on the bridge to find out what had happened. The Old Man said some
ship had made a wrong turn and they had collided; everything else was okay.
Brunskill took the word back and assured those in the Engine Room that he
would not abandon them if anything else happened, but would see them right
before he left. He could not understand the attitude of the Chief, who was
standing by the lifeboat, fully dressed, and all ready to get in.(HMC 92-29, TTC p.
2)
Some respondents had memories specific to the Arctic or Malta
convoys. James North, who sailed on the ill-fated PQ17, recalled that in the
early convoys from Halifax, Nova Scotia to Greenock, Scotland, and thence to
Iceland and Archangel, there were large losses every day and every night.
When an older ship was hit, it just went down; it did not float for long.
Tankers broke in half, not so much from torpedoes, as from fighting the seas to
stay in position in convoy. People on the stern and perhaps the lookout on the
bow might survive. There were three old coal-burners on PQ17 -- the
Ironclad, Silver Sword and Troubador. North often wonders what happened
to the other two on the way back, as his ship, the Troubador, made it
through.(HMC 90-17, TTC p. 1) There were whalers in convoy, which had been
converted into tankers, but still had a huge bridge. The Mate on “Murph”
Murphy‟s ship was frightened when a whaler got astern of them, because of
the way it loomed out of the fog.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 2) But on long convoy
routes the first enemy was the U-boat, the second the weather. In the South,
the greatest problem was the heat. No vessels were air-conditioned and few
even had fans.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 1)280 If rough weather and fog were combined,
the convoy might be forced to scatter. They then had to find a rendezvous
point and re-form. The masters were given rendezvous points for every couple
of days with just such a contingency in mind.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1) Convoys
were all similar, but some ships only had magnetic compasses, whereas the
British had gyros281 and once, in fog, William Dennis‟s ship sailed for five days
without anyone in the convoy being able to take a sight.(HMC 90-55, TTC p. 1)
Frank Niedermeier was extremely articulate, with only a slight
tendency to hyperbole. Shipping from the Port of Embarkation at the Army
base near Battery Park in New York, he was in a convoy of more than fifty
ships with a blimp escort282 and LSTs283 on each side of the ship. They were
attacked in the middle of the night and as they neared Cuba, the crew was
informed two tankers had been sunk. Although they never saw the actual
victims or debris, they saw the oil slick the following day “for hours and
hours”. Later, after passing through the Panama Canal and getting about
twenty nautical miles into the Pacific, they were told that the commodore ship
of their convoy had been torpedoed coming out of the canal. A United States
Navy PBY airplane came by, blinking, “Change course. Subs ahead.”
Niedermeier‟s ship then left the convoy and proceeded independently to New
Caledonia, where they were asked to join a convoy for Guadalcanal, but the
Captain refused. It took a month to unload in New Caledonia, as they
repeatedly had to move away from the docks to allow troopships to
offload.(HMC 90-19, TTC p. 3)
280
. See further under “Conditions Aboard” in this chapter and note the story of how
James McCaffrey combatted heat problems amongst his bakehouse crew.
281
. Gyro-compasses.
282
. The use of dirigibles as an aircraft escort for convoys has been corroborated by
printed sources, but appears only rarely in the interview data. I have been told that the term
“blimp” for such airships arose from designating the earliest of them “A. Rigid” or “B. Limp”,
the former having a rigid outer framework.
283
. LST = Landing Ship Tank, a vessel similar in function to the amphibious DUK,
used for ferrying troops and materiel ashore from a ship at anchor.
More than one man was in a ship which became a “straggler” but
wound up beating the convoy to port sailing independently. The return convoy
Clinton Johnson was in from Liverpool to New York in early 1945 was a fast,
fourteen-knot convoy of fifty or sixty ships; no slow Liberties were involved.
His ship developed engine trouble after the first day out and had to drop out of
convoy for repairs, during which time they were temporarily “sitting ducks”
with no power at all and could not even call for help, but eventually, the defect
repaired, they ran independently to New York at sixteen and a half knots,
beating the convoy they had lost. They had difficulty identifying themselves
when they reached New York, because a lone “straggler” from a not-yetarrived convoy was incredible. It was comical, but only because the confusion
was eventually resolved.(HMC 90-24, TTC p. 1)
The straggling of other vessels was a fore-ordained conclusion.
Stanley Hoskins was on a ship which joined a convoy out of Halifax, bound
for the U.S. border, but was so slow the convoy left her and she had to proceed
independently. When the escort commander originally asked her speed, the
Old Man had said eight knots, and a group of crewmen standing at the rail
could not help laughing. The statement was ridiculous; they were lucky to get
four.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 1)
Most published compilations of PENs (Personal Experience
Narratives) from merchant seafarers of the Second World War, comprise
mainly “horror stories” of being sunk and spending time adrift before rescue. I
did not elicit such stories and what few I did get were lacking in detail. A
typical example of such a narrative was collected by Mike Gillen from
Rexford Dickey in 1981 and is held in the archives of the SIU Harry
Lundeberg School of Seamanship in Piney Point, Maryland. Here is a
synopsis:
Dickey, an AB,284 picked up the Wade Hampton in
Baltimore and went to New York to load, mostly foodstuffs.
They laid in New York about a week when the captain asked if
they wanted to stay with the ship for a trip to Russia. They
could leave before the Articles were signed; some left. They
sailed in a big convoy.
There were ice fields and a “big blow”, as well. Dickey, at
the wheel, thought the weather too heavy for attack, but they
were torpedoed at eight that February night. They abandoned
ship, Dickey and the Bosun lowering the lifeboats, then
grabbing a raft for themselves; by then it was two or three in the
morning. The ship did not sink rapidly, but had to be sunk by
Allied destroyers. The torpedo had hit aft between No. 4 and
No. 5 hatch on the port side. The actual impact was not
memorable, although it blew the after end of the ship away -from No. 4 hatch back. The gun crew were lost immediately,
with their quarters.
The visibility in convoy was bad. Conditions were not too
bad, although there was a good [heavy, big] sea running.
Dickey and the Bosun had launched a box-type raft. The Bosun
missed the raft and fell in, but Dickey pulled him out; only
Dickey‟s feet were wet, but the Bosun was wet all over. Dickey
was fully dressed and wearing a cap.
Most of the survivors were picked up by a destroyer in
about an hour, but Dickey and the Bosun were overlooked.
They turned on a flashlight to show their position for the
rescuers and were told, “Turn that out or we‟ll shoot it out!”
and with daylight they found themselves abandoned. They had
been yelling and whistling to show their position. They had
just been left, lost. Spray came over the raft, but not the seas
themselves. When daylight came there was no one around.
Dickey dreamed a convoy came, and hailed them, but found
... he was hallucinating. In the next twenty-four hours two
ships passed by, but did not notice them. The raft was like a
flat platform with a one-foot canvas wall around it and not too
easily visible. Dickey then saw a convoy and thought it a
mirage, but when he looked again, he saw that it was real. He
thought he had been left behind again, when someone behind
him said, “We see you.” He was picked up by a Canadian
destroyer -- an old U.S. trade four-stacker -- which came
alongside and took him aboard. “What about the Bosun?”
“He‟s gone.” Dickey is unsure whether the Bosun died of
exposure or a broken heart; he believes it was the latter. He
thinks the Bosun‟s heart was broken by being twice abandoned
by vessels which passed so very close.
Dickey himself was transferred to a hospital ship in the
westbound convoy, which was headed for Newfoundland. The
Australian doctor had Dickey walking aboard ship, although he
amputated his toe[s?]. He was put ashore in Halifax, after a
stop in St. John's. In the shoreside hospital, Dickey was not
284
. The term “AB” for Able[-Bodied] Seaman is standard maritime usage and
prevails throughout this work.
allowed to put his feet down for several weeks, after the ship‟s
doctor had allowed him to walk. Finally he was put on a train
for New York, then Baltimore. He paid off in New York.
Mike Gillen, the interviewer, asked if the Bosun was buried
at sea, but Dickey did not know and could not remember his
name. He was younger than Dickey, and also from Baltimore.
“He just didn‟t make it. He must have given up when they
passed by for the second time. He wouldn‟t talk, move, or try
from that time on.” Dickey was affected by the experience and
could not go back to sea soon, as he was under treatment by a
Baltimore hospital. Eventually he went back to union work, but
did not ship out again and never made it to Murmansk.(SHLSS
#5 (19 August 1981), HMC TTC p. 2)
A more typical narrative from the informants with whom I worked
came from Alan Kingdom, a Radio Officer at the time, who now lives in
Southampton. It is evident from the text that the speaker was distancing
himself from the event. Personal glimpses came far more often from the
lighter side of the informants‟ memories than from the more intense situations.
Here is Mr. Kingdom's report of the two ships he lost:
The Ashantian left Liverpool for Freetown in convoy. On
the third night out, Alan Kingdom was going to relieve the
watch at midnight, when the Second Mate pointed out to him a
torpedoed tanker afire on the port side. Mr. Kingdom said,
“We‟re next!” And they were. They were struck about twothirty in the morning. The torpedo struck in the Engine Room,
killing about five of the crew, but the ship remained afloat. The
rest of the crew abandoned ship, but stayed nearby in the boats
until daylight, when they re-boarded and got help. In the
morning, a Sunderland flying boat went over and spotted them.
Later the corvette, Gloxinia, came and transferred the crew to
Belfast. The ship, meanwhile, was towed to Glasgow, where
she was repaired. She was torpedoed again on her next voyage
and most of the crew were lost that time. This shows the
rationale of the American belief that a second voyage on the
same vessel could be chancy. It did not apply to Mr. Kingdom,
of course, but the Master of the Ashantian and many
crewmembers known to Mr. Kingdom were lost.
That ship was very slow. She was built around 1935 and
was coal-fired. She was a straggler on the night of the attack
and had been spotted by an escort who signalled her (with a
lamp): “Keep on course. Will reach convoy by daylight.” This
signal was seen by a U-boat which then took a bearing. The
signal message was actually unnecessary and the escort must
have known submarines were about because of the tanker
which had been hit earlier. It was like being third on a match.
It was very odd for the escort to break the blackout. A few
weeks later, the Admiralty send a message to all merchant
ships, saying that in almost every case when a ship had been hit
at night, lights had been shown.
Mr. Kingdom‟s next ship was the Derwent Hall, from
Liverpool to Capetown, taking stores to the Eighth Army in the
Mid-East by a roundabout route. This was in October 1940,
when convoys were getting better organised, but radar was still
not invented until 1941. They left Liverpool going northabouts
with a convoy bound for Halifax, Nova Scotia. Later two or
three ships all bound for Capetown broke off the convoy and
headed south, all on the same course, but independent. ... They
had a few distress messages in the next couple of days, but by
the time the reached the Canaries, all was quiet. There was a
small convoy from Aden in the Red Sea when they arrived
there. The Italians were still there at that time. They loaded
cotton in Alexandria and started back, but struck a mine while
passing through the Suez Canal. They had nearly got through.
It was an acoustic mine, which was a brand new weapon at the
time, and was intended to block the canal. The Derwent Hall
was a diesel ship and vibrated a lot. She was also deeply
loaded and almost directly over the mine, which was placed on
the bottom of the Canal, when she hit it. Her after end was
damaged. There were no casualties among the crew and very
little damage to the hull, but the engine would not operate
properly. They were laid up for about a year before she was
repaired. It was not a bent shaft, but the stern tube was out of
alignment. The Derwent Hall was owned by West Hartlepool
Steam Navigation Company, and the Ashantian sailed for the
United Africa company, part of the Lever Group. All Mr.
Kingdom‟s ships were tramps.(HMC 92-15, TTC pp. 3-4)
Bill Fortune was never in any “exciting convoys” like those to North
Russia. There was the odd U-boat scare or air attack, but luckily he was never
“bumped” and never lost a ship. He did, however, leave his discharge book at
the Liverpool customshouse, where it was lost when the building was bombed.
At that time, when you signed on a ship‟s Articles, your book was taken until
you signed off again. Because of the lost book, no discharges are shown in his
present book between 1936 and 1941.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 2)
Interviewees discussed with me the actual formation of convoys and
how to make them uniform. There was radar and the lookouts were always
alert. Escorts and Armed Guard fought off attacks.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 1)
Russian convoys were mostly attacked by aircraft. “Fish” Ramsey‟s Russian
run was in September of 1942. It may have been PQ18. They lost thirteen
ships, having started with forty-three; thirty got through -- the escort was good.
They went to Archangel, although it was called a Murmansk convoy. It was
like heading for New York and branching off to Philadelphia. “Fish” was
never torpedoed or mined in convoy, but he was aboard vessels damaged by
shrapnel. He was at a dock in Algeria when his ship was shelled and bombed.
Some lifeboats were holed and had to be repaired, but no men were lost. (HMC
90-49, TTC pp. 1-2)
Whenever the escort were uncertain, they would drop a depth-charge.
American escorts would take a convoy to a certain point where the English
would come out, pick them up, and split them according to their destinations.
It took timing to switch with the returning vessels. The United States and the
United Kingdom worked together to make convoys safer, including air cover,
blimps,285 and the like. It was hard to convoy ships to go to all destinations.
Pacific convoys were “island-hoppers”. There was more air support in the
Pacific than in the Atlantic.(HMC 90-65, TTC pp. 1-2)
Richard Aldhelm-White (RCN) discussed major convoy ports. Most
loading was done in the States, after which ships sat by the hundreds in
Bedford Basin, Halifax, Nova Scotia, but no seamen were allowed ashore.
Halifax was a marshalling area -- as was Sydney, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia -not a loading port. They seldom went to Reykjavik, Iceland, but usually
travelled straight across from Halifax. Reykjavik was mostly another base for
escorts, only used for refuelling and such. Mr. Aldhelm-White not only
discussed convoy organisation and rest camps organised for the Royal
Canadian Navy, but also described how Canadians with relatives in the United
Kingdom could go ashore and obtain passes to visit them, and outlined the
difficulties involved in this operation.(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 4)
285
. Blimp, as has been noted, is a common name for a manned dirigible-type airship
without a rigid internal frame, although in England, it is often applied to unmanned barrage
balloons, as well.
Between 1940 and 1944, when Alan Kingdom was on the Indian Coast,
there were no convoys there. In 1940 and at the end of the war, his experience
was mostly with British coastal convoys, which were more simply organised
than the trans-oceanic ones -- a single or double file of ships protected by
escorts fore and aft -- more to protect the vessels against natural hazards, such
as sandbanks, than against the enemy. This type of convoy went round the
coasts of the United Kingdom and across the Channel to France, Belgium, and
Holland after their liberation.(HMC 92-15, TTC p. 3) Convoys on the Indian
Coast were very irregularly scheduled. “Sometimes you had them and
sometimes you didn‟t.” One ship Mr. Kingdom sailed on might never have
been in a convoy, and the next might have sailed in them occasionally, but
spent more time sailing independently.(HMC 92-15, TTC p. 3) Mr. Kingdom also
sailed in convoy through the Persian Gulf, where convoys were not vital, as
they were in the North Atlantic. German and Japanese attacks were irregular
in the East. They came in spurts and when they were heavy, convoys were
organised. Mr. Kingdom was not on many convoys until he returned home
from India, and by that time the campaign in the Atlantic was nearly over.
There were still attacks in the Caribbean and “they had got the wind up286 about
the Indian Ocean”. Escorts were few as well. Once, in the autumn of 1943, a
Royal Indian Navy Armed Trawler escort could not keep up with the
merchantmen in the convoy, and had to keep asking them to slow down. At
the end of the voyage, she used her signal lamp to apologise for her lack of
speed.(HMC 92-15, TTC p. 3)
In those days there were open bridges on naval escort
vessels. Depth charge sentry on the bridge was a good, easy
job. Roy Williams only fired one depth charge and that was to
try to catch fish. “You got wet on that job, but could hear what
the officers said and knew what was going on. Some of the
officers would tell you. If the First Lieutenant was on, you
could sometimes have a go at steering. He was keen to teach
ordinary seamen and pass them on to AB quickly. Any
afternoon he was on, he would put someone else on your job
286
. “To get the wind up” is “Britspeak” for “to become alarmed”.
and let you steer for half an hour. If you were below, it
probably seemed rougher than usual with different people on
the wheel making snake-trails”, but HMS Loch Dunvegan was a
very steady ship, carrying so much fuel, and the quarters were
palatial compared to most others.(HMC 92-18, TTC p. 3)
Hank Adams and his shipmates, when in combat areas and
shorthanded, were often required to stand a double watch. On his first voyage
as an ordinary, Hank was at the wheel under these conditions, and fell asleep
while the Second Mate was down in his cabin, shaving. The Captain felt the
difference in movement and came to the bridge, only to find that they had
performed a U-turn and gone back through the whole convoy. The Captain
was reprimanded for losing position, but all he said to Hank was: “I don‟t
mind if you write your name in the ocean; I just don‟t want you going back to
dot the i‟s.”(HMC 90-15, p. 1)
By 1943 the Merchant Marine was safer than the German submarine
service. Once the convoy system, and air cover were established, “the U-boats
hadn‟t a prayer.” In 1941 and 1942, however, these U-boats “put a mortal
hurtin‟ on the U.S. Merchant Marine.” Robby Owen, as an Engineer, was
impressed that the Mate on every new ship built a “monkey island” above the
flying bridge with a plywood housing to protect the helmsman. The Mate and
the lookouts stood watches on that bridge in the weather, “which was a pain in
the neck in the North Atlantic.” When the war ended they came back inside to
the chartroom. Owen believes World War II to have been the finest hour in
U.S. History.(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 1-3.)
Capt. George W. Jahn287 did not pay much attention to the official
numbers given convoys, but noted that those scheduled to sail from “Glasgow”
actually made up in Loch Ewe. He had his Chief Mate‟s papers at the
287
. Capt. Jahn is (in 1995) the official Master of the Jeremiah O‟Brien, the
preserved Liberty ship mentioned in Chapter Two, and was in command when she sailed from
her museum mooring in San Francisco to participate in the fifty-year commemorations of the
D-Day Landings on the Normandy beaches in 1994.
beginning of the war, but was sailing as a Second Mate and got his Master‟s
licence about six months later. He lost only one vessel, in the Pacific, and
before they were “hammered”, they were a hundred miles off Hawaii en route
to New Zealand, having arrived the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor. They
spent ten days in a lifeboat, and were picked up five miles off Kauai, but only
two crew members were lost.(HMC 89-5A, TTC p. 1)
I was occasionally reminded by my informants that in the Merchant
Service one always said “Hard left, hard right” never “port or starboard”.
There were so many newcomers and different nationalities you could not take
chances on misunderstanding. The United States Navy, said Jim Higman,
started the “indirect orders”. They used to “port the helm” to go right on
sailing ships and old-time pilots could give confusing orders to the steersmen.
Steering in convoy was most often done off the “monkey bridge”.288 One
should be able to see everything from there. Anti-submarine devices on the
ships included paravanes with nets attached and degaussing gear. Jim North
said more people probably were killed rigging the devices than by the
torpedoes themselves. They could not be rigged at eight to ten knots. It was
one of the most dangerous jobs. After a while they just stopped using
them.(HMC 90-17, TTC pp. 1-4)
John Pottinger‟s convoy experience was limited, as he spent the first
part of the war in the Pacific where there were fewer convoys and his ships
mostly sailed independently. He was, however, in a couple of large Atlantic
convoys. Convoys made it a lot safer, but were more difficult. East Coast
sailings were almost always in convoy, because combined submarine and
various air attacks made passages very difficult and caused many losses. It
was best not to be at sea at all, but safer in the Pacific.(HMC 90-8, TTC p. 1)
288
. Actually “monkey island”, the topmost bridge, with no housing.
Dick Playfer was once in a ship where the Old Man claimed they were
faster than they really were to avoid the slow convoys. The crew suspected it
was because the slow convoys were infra dig289 and also because he did not
want to waste time. He would elect to go with a convoy a bit faster than the
actual speed of his ship, so they were always straggling and getting signalled
by the Commodore. The Old Man would then ring the Engine Room, asking
for “the extra rev” and saying it was vital. They eventually fell behind at
night, and in the morning there would be no sign of the convoy. Mr. Playfer
feels the Old Man was ambivalent -- worried about his vulnerability, but
preferring to be alone. Slow convoys were, after all, very tedious. On another
occasion, when Playfer was crossing the South Atlantic solo with an “anxious”
skipper -- not a coward, but a worrier -- a ship was sighted on the horizon,
obviously quite a large naval vessel. She was flying the United States flag, but
the Old Man did not trust her. One of the officers thought he recognised her -still the skipper had his doubts. The warship sent up a code flag signal, but the
Old Man was still suspicious. When he did not answer the signal, the warship
fired a shot across their bows and when they hove to, sent a boarding party
aboard to inspect. Playfer himself was then told by the skipper to stand on the
wing of the bridge with the confidential papers and to sink them if the
boarding party turned out to be the enemy. He does not know what happened
in the Captain‟s dayroom, but the Yanks eventually left. When they did, the
Old Man told him, “Americans are very strange people”, and they then
continued on their way. That is how Playfer was nearly sunk by a friendly
power. Otherwise, he “had a very lucky war”.(HMC 92-25, TTC p. 2)
Most convoys in the Gulf of Mexico went from Houston or New
Orleans to New York, where they formed up and then moved by “puddlejumping” and laying over in various ports. There was not much in the way of
289
. A rather dated British term, culled from schoolboy Latin, for beneath one‟s
dignity.
escorts.(HMC 90-65, TTC pp. 1-2) They used numbers to communicate with flag
hoists and the like. Radio was only used in case of emergency. They tried not
to use their blinkers at night, but used a “blue rifle shot” instead.(HMC 90-65,
TTC pp. 1-2)
Capt. Ed March sailed in convoy in the Caribbean, the North
Atlantic, and the Mediterranean. These were fast convoys running at fifteen
knots. There were no “Christmas tree lights” for signalling. Instead they used
“TBY”290 voice radios. At night there were no signals, as the TBY range was
too great at night. The Commodore gave night orders at sundown and after
that there was nothing until sunrise unless an emergency arose. All signals
except those for turning, which were whistle blasts, were sent by radio.(HMC
90-67, TTC p. 5)
Special signals, code names, and station numbers were
important; if a ship did not give the correct responses, she could be fired upon.
The only time Bob Imbeau was ever on a ship that was hit, it was by an Allied
plane who raked them across the bow when they did not answer his signal
quickly enough.(HMC 89-5, TTC p. 6.) Communication and navigation aids were
primitive in those days. There was no radar, so signalling came into its own.
Secrecy was a fetish and many common practices were forbidden on security
grounds.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 3)
Leading Radio Mechanic Roy Williams went to Russia in HMS Loch
Dunvegan in convoy JW59 and returned in convoy RA59a. It was good
weather -- August. It was a relatively uneventful convoy, except that acoustic
torpedoes were used by the Germans and HMS Kite291 was blown up, because
she had no “rattler” as Williams‟s ship did. They had used up two and
installed a third, but Kite‟s group did not carry them. Aside from that, it was
really a very easy convoy, quite like a holiday.(HMC 92-18, TTC p. 3)
290
. I do not know what the initials represent, but this was a standard short-range
radio in common use for such purposes at the time.
291
. Previously the flagship of the famous British escort commander “Johnny”
Walker.
There were innumerable narratives of station-keeping in convoy and,
attendant to that subject, were those of convoy speed and maintaining secrecy
through blackout, avoidance of making smoke, judicious disposal of waste,
etc. These are covered in the section immediately following.
B.
POSITION-KEEPING
Apparently, from the data gathered in fieldwork for this study, one of
the most memorable aspects of convoy experience for both Deck and Engine
crew was position-keeping[station-keeping] within the overall convoy pattern.
Those who were Junior Deck Officers, wheelsmen, or lookouts at the time of
the war, remember the endless difficulties of trying to navigate and to position
the vessel with only the inconsequential aid of the fog buoys292 or blue stern
lights293 of other ships to assist them. Handling a ship in convoy in bad
weather was a singular experience, unlike any on shore. It is quite different
from handling a car in traffic, as there are no brakes294 and conditions are far
more fluid (no pun intended). Engineers recall the problems of trying to
regulate the engines by one or two revolutions per minute to co-ordinate with
directives from the bridge, a task which proved just as harrowing as the
navigation, dealing, as it did, with painstaking adjustment of massive
machines never intended for such delicate manipulation. Other memorable
aspects of convoy experience which consistently recurred in the interviews
include safety regulations, and attempts to keep blackout, avoid making
smoke, and dispose of rubbish in such a way that enemy attention would not
be attracted.
...[N]o two ships seemed to travel at the same speed, no
matter how they tried to adjust the ... revolutions of the
propellors. ... [S]o you‟d turn around and ... here comes
another ship slowly moving up on you. ...[A] ship damn near
rammed us this one time. Where the hell that ship came from I
don't know, but first thing you know she was all right up on top
of us. Coming from behind or a little off to the side.295
292
. The fog buoy was constructed so as to throw up a “rooster tail” of water and was
towed behind the vessel on a line the length of which was supposed to ensure the lookout on
the bow of the vessel next in line could see this “rooster tail” even in dense fog.
293
. These were designed to be seen at night by the vessel immediately following,
but not to be visible at any distance.
294
. The only way to check a vessel‟s progress is to shift the engines from “ahead” to
“astern”, in effect “throwing her into reverse”. It is clear that this manoeuvre would not
achieve its ends very quickly in an emergency situation.
295
. TimeWatch script, 13. [Minor corrections made].
Capt. Emerson Chodzko informed me that when coal-burning vessels
“pulled their fires” at the change of watches, they had to be alert not to hit the
ship ahead. He also said position-keeping in the Mediterranean was more
difficult than elsewhere, because the sea itself was so much more limited in
area than the North Atlantic and most other waters.(HMC 89-1, TTC pp. 2-3)
On one occasion, when his ship had taken over the commodore ship
position in a convoy, they “cheated” on taking their navigational “sun sights”
at noon. All sun sights taken aboard a given vessel were supposed to agree
and all in a convoy were supposed to agree with those from the commodore
ship. What Capt. Chodzko‟s group did was to either average the sights taken
by all the Deck Officers, or to throw out any that significantly differed from
the others. As commodore ship, they often finagled things so that they were
actually using the sun sights taken by another vessel. When they were not
commodore ship, they tried to get the commodore ship‟s bearing and feed it
back to her.(HMC 89-1, TTC p. 4 and HMC 89-2, TTC p. 1.)
Ernest Tunnicliffe, when discussing using the engines‟ RPM296 to keep
position, cited an incident when his vessel kept dropping back and falling out
of position, even at full speed. They should have been making eleven-and-ahalf or twelve knots, and it was only a ten-knot convoy. It transpired that the
Engineers had changed the burners in order to conserve fuel and could not
maintain a full head of steam. They had to drop out of convoy, taking an
escort with them, change back to the larger burners, and then catch up again,
which took several hours. After that, whenever he rang the Engine Room for
more speed, Mr. Tunnicliffe asked for tens of „revs‟ instead of two or three.
He could always slow down again.(HMC 92-40, TTC pp. 4-5)
296
. Revolutions per minute.
Capt. Tom Goodyear, then a junior Deck officer, began his taperecorded interview session by reading from a personal manuscript prepared for
his great-grandchildren:
From September 1943 to the end of the war in Europe on May
the 15th, 1945, we were to operate between St. John‟s,
Newfoundland and New York. Now the ship I was on then was
the S/S Fort Amherst. She belonged to ... Furness Withy and
Company and was ... registered in London, England. ...we were
carrying supplies for civilians and military population of
Newfoundland. Passenger traffic was down as most preferred
the passage to Canada, ... or the U.S. by way of ... the
Newfoundland Railway and a six-hour crossing of the Gulf.
Can‟t say I blame them as we were losing many ships, often
with large loss of life through the increase of submarine activity
on this side of the Atlantic. A further hazard was the laying of
mines off St. John‟s and Halifax.... On a typical run from St.
John‟s to New York we would depart usually in the daylight ...
After threading our way through the three torpedo nets in the
Narrows of St. John‟s, we would follow naval instructions
which took us ... due east of the Narrows, through a channel
which had been swept for mines following daybreak, to a point
thirty miles offshore where a buoy was positioned. From there
we would generally form a small convoy of fast ships and
proceed, escorted by two corvettes or mine-sweepers, to
Halifax. This was fine as we would be travelling fast on a
zigzag course and would be in Halifax in two or three days. On
other occasions we would be ordered, after clearing the swept
channel, to proceed south and east some several hundred miles
to a position where we would join a slow convoy bound from
the U.K. to North America. This was a pain in the ass. There
might be fifty or more ships in the convoy. They were
invariably slow, six or seven knots, and they were in ballast
condition and difficult to handle in bad weather, and it was ...
nerve-wracking to keep station on a dark stormy night. It was
fine when Captain Kane[Kean?] was on the bridge. The burden
was always his, but at the end of forty-eight or so hours, he was
at the end of his endurance and would crash on the chartroom
settee, cover himself with his salt-stained duffle coat; it would
then take a depth charge to awaken him. (Now I must interject
here that at the time I was a junior officer on this ship. ... Now
this is the first ship I joined as a ship‟s officer, junior officer,
and here we are now just after joining a convoy, bound to North
America.) One such night in January 1945, I went to the bridge
to relieve Chief Officer John O‟Hara for dinner, a thirty- or
forty-minute affair. He told me that the Old Man was ... passed
out on the settee and if I had trouble to call him [O‟Hara]. We
were heading into a strong headwind. He waited for five or ten
minutes until I had my eyes accustomed to the gloom. Now
this was the customary thing. ... Coming out of the ... lighted
interior it would take you some time...anyhow, accustomed to
the gloom.... No lights, no lights at all. ... That‟s it, that is,
when I could see the form of the ship ahead, about half a mile
away and the ship on each side about two hundred, two
thousand feet. He gave me the course steered and the engine
speed and departed. Shortly thereafter I lost sight of the ship
ahead, as did the lookout. I increased speed three revolutions
per minute, thinking we were dropping behind. After an
eternity (i.e. five or six minutes) I increased three more RPM and
altered course two degrees to port of our base course to correct
what I perceived to be an out-of-line position. By this time I
was in a state of near panic, „fraid to call the Old Man from his
state of exhaustion and too proud to send for John O‟Hara, and
I was in a sweat. What to do? I had lost sight of the ship ahead
and also those on the beam; we were going faster than the
convoy speed and were steering two degrees to the left of the
convoy course. There were fifty or more ships within several
miles and I couldn‟t see one. In a flash it occurred to me -- fog!
-- reduce speed six RPM to the convoy speed and come back to
convoy course. This I did with a sense of satisfaction. Almost
immediately there boomed out on our starboard side two
numerals sounding on the ship‟s whistle. This was in the
Morse Code. It was the number of the ship ahead. God, what a
relief! By the time John O‟Hara came back to the bridge, I had
the ship back in position and the patch of fog had lifted. When
he had his eyes, he could see the ship ahead and those abeam
and I turned the ship over to him as though nothing had
happened. Deep inside I knew this as one of the worst
experiences of six years at sea -- of war at sea. A valuable
lesson to me, if I was to learn the importance of: (1) don‟t
panic, (2) analyse the situation and (3) act in a responsible and
reasonable manner.<HMC 91-4, from TR/TTC p. 1>
In addition to describing this incident, Capt. Goodyear discussed a
regular small convoy involving the same ships each time, and how methods of
station-keeping were devised which were based on familiarity with the other
vessels:
Ah, frequently we would form a small convoy of Fort Amherst
... the S/S Lady Rodney, and the S/S Cabot Strait. It was a
pleasure to be in such a convoy. We knew the ships and their
people. In time we devised a number of tactics to assist in
station-keeping such as, knowing the length of the Lady Rodney
... we found that when standing at the engine-room telegraph on
the bridge, she was just framed in the window of the bridge cab.
... You‟re standing there ... at this distance from the window, if
she fitted in the window, you were in the right position. ...
Now, if she did not fit into the frame we were too close and if
she fitted the frame with space to spare we were too far apart,
minor course adjustments were accordingly made.<HMC 91-4, TR
and TTC p. 1>
It was Capt. Goodyear‟s contention that Navy navigators were
professionals, but merchant navigators were not. “Professional seamen, but
not professional station-keepers. It was an acquired skill. Many merchant
ships were sunk by collision with others.”(HMC 91-4, TTC p. 6)
Even the best training in navigational skills was not always sufficient.
Inattention or even mere chance could make for a serious situation. As an
Ordinary Seaman just come on watch, Ed March, now a retired Master, noted
his vessel was approaching the large Field Bank Buoy, just out of Galveston.
Although he rang the bell and notified the Mate several times, getting a
response of, “Very good” each time, there was no course change. By the time
he was frantically yelling, “We‟re gonna hit that buoy!” it was a certainty and
the last minute attempt to avoid it failed. Perhaps, he said, the man was
preoccupied, but the Old Man was “not happy” and they replaced the chief
Mate soon afterward.(HMC 90-68, TTC p. 5) On another occasion, he himself
was keeping position when the telemotor gears were accidentally jammed by a
seaman‟s sweater. The helmsman said the ship would not steer just as the
Commodore blew a turning blast. They were on the port side of the (fast)
convoy, which was turning left -- to port. The convoys turned and they did
not. Somehow they managed to cross the entire convoy without hitting
anything -- or seeing anything in the thick fog -- while the TBY radio
screamed “Three-two, what are you doing?” But there was nothing to be done
until they could get the wool out of the telemotor and get the “trick wheel” aft
functioning. When they got back on course and the fog lifted, they found
themselves on the starboard side of the convoy. Capt. March‟s only remark
was, “That‟s all we needed with a tanker full of gas[gasoline/petrol]!”(HMC 9068, TTC p. 2)
One wartime Apprentice recalled an occasion when, in convoy on dark
nights, the navigation aids of the ship ahead of his were obscured by a bulky
deck cargo of timber. As the general dogsbody by virtue of his low position in
the hierarchy (he described the position of an Apprentice as “lower than the
ship‟s cat”) he was required to leave his position as lookout on the wing of the
bridge and clamber over the cargo, which was secured to the deck by wire
buckles, in order to see the signals from the ship ahead, and then climb back to
relay them to the officer on watch.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 3 and 6)
John Pottinger, a Chief Engineer who was in a couple of large Atlantic
convoys, did not like convoys; nobody did, because of the difficulty of
maintaining position.(HMC 90-8, TTC p. 1) Another Chief Engineer described
early British convoys at ten-knot speed, including fog and whistle signals, and
underlined the problem of position-keeping.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 1) Masters,
Mates, wheelsmen, Quartermasters, lookouts, and Chief Engineers seem to
have been the ones most concerned with position-keeping, but even Firemen
spoke of the “races” in the Engine Room to see who could get the most RPM
out of a three-cylinder [triple expansion] engine, and told how to do so, as well
as how to stop the engine from smoking.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 2)
Capt. Stephen F. Browne, now a docking pilot, discussed convoy
technicalities and the difficulties of maintaining position. A stadimeter might
be used in clear weather, but other practices, such as fog buoys and whistle
signals would replace it if vision was obscured by fog or darkness. Oblique
turns were made on signal, rather like a drill team. It was easy (and
embarrassing) to botch things up. They were like the “Blue Angels”.297 Most
of them were too young to fully realise the hazards of manoeuvring. It seemed
exciting, not dangerous. Browne was too late for the Murmansk convoys,
which were more hazardous. He was sixty-five at the time of his
interview.(HMC 90-50, TTC p. 1)
Capt. John Klocko (HMC 90-64, TTC p. 3), Capt. Ed March (HMC 90-68,
TTC p. 2),
and, in fact, most of the Deck Officers interviewed, recalled in detail
297
. The aeronautical drill team of the United States Air Force. The Royal Air Force
“Red Arrows” are similar in character.
the difficulties of position-keeping in convoy and the use of fog-buoys. As a
lowly deckhand, though, Bob Parr (HMC 92-2, TTC p. 4) found no difficulties in
keeping position. That was a problem for the officers. Ed Richards (HMC 9061, TTC p. 4)
was a deckhand as well, but he was an AB and Quartermaster,
rather than just an Ordinary Seaman. He recalls that, when in convoy, the ship
“worked him to death keeping position”. The Chief Mate told him he had
done a good job, and that gave Richards a big lift -- nothing bothered him from
that time onward.
Capt. Emerson Chodzko remembered a ninety-ship international
convoy through the Mediterranean as very hectic. High risk ships were placed
on the inside; barrage balloon and submarine net defences were employed;
there were ninety-degree course changes; they were bombed and strafed by
Stukas. “Believe it or not there were still fishing boats off the coast of Spain.”
They encountered some of these in the middle of the night. He emphasised the
tension of being on watch in blackout at night trying to keep position. There
followed a North Atlantic convoy description and he said it was hard to keep
course when the ship was light[empty]. There were special signals for “out of
command”. Sometimes convoys dispersed because of weather and reformed
later.298 One is in tight quarters in convoys with the Navy bawling people out
when they are out of position, and the problems with engines and with ships
which “straggle” do nothing to help matters.(HMC 89-1, TTC p. 3)
A great deal of manoeuvrability was dependent on the cargo officers
and the way the ship was loaded. On this depended her stability to a very great
extent. Capt. R.A. Simpson stressed the point that there was a lack of cargo
from the United Kingdom, other than war materiel. Cargoes in British
bottoms were mainly imports, and station-keeping in outward bound convoys
was particularly difficult for empty ships in ballast, in bad weather. Stability
298
. The fog buoy was erroneously described here as a “paravane”.
in heavy seas is best achieved by the weight of a well-proportioned cargo,
properly stowed. It was difficult for overly light vessels to maintain course
and they sometimes had to heave to. On the other hand, an overload could be
even more dangerous, especially when ice was involved. We discussed the
picture of a heavily laden, heavily iced vessel; she looks as if she is sinking
and one would swear she had been torpedoed, but she is only wallowing.
Capt. Simpson said that even huge post-war container ships in the St.
Lawrence could be endangered if they became heavily iced.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 7)
One ship loaded a mixed cargo, but with a lot of “weight cargo”,
probably ingots of zinc, and the Second had given the ship too much stability.
They had to rendezvous with a convoy in mid-Atlantic and she was rolling
terribly, because she was so stable she was stiff, like dolls with weighted
bottoms, or pop-up clowns. As they approached the convoy, there was quite a
sea running, and the Old Man got worried. Keith Marshall was on watch at the
time. A destroyer came out and signalled them to join the convoy. Marshall
said yes, using the Aldis lamp. They were rolling so much that the lashings let
go on the deck cargo, which was drums of peppermint and they rolled about all
over the deck and some fell into the sea. The ship could not turn round. The
destroyer signalled them, “do not jettison cargo”, but it was unintentional.
They finally warned the escort and tried to turn round and did it successfully.
“Whew!” It often happened that you rendezvoused at sea, especially if you
were a fast ship and went part way “on your tod”299 and then joined a
convoy.(HMC 92-30, TTC p. 3)
Alan Peter said one might hear a bang and see a black cloud of smoke
on the other side of the convoy, but not know what ship had gone. If visibility
was bad, one would hardly know anything had happened at all. It was the
same in bad weather when ships were lost through stress or capsizing. During
299
. Alone, on your own -- a British idiom.
the war, ships tended to be overloaded, poorly loaded, and to carry large deck
cargoes. They were not quite unstable, but somewhat so, and many were lost
in convoy through stress or weather. The convoy Commodore told when to
stream fog buoys. The ship behind could see the buoy instead of the ship
ahead of it, but there was no control over the ships abeam and there were
collisions.(HMC 92-35, TTC p. 7)
Bob Imbeau noticed that, when sailing in convoy at night, a marker
with a light was towed. These were little blue convoy lights, because blue was
only visible for short distances, and they were different from paravanes.300 The
towed marker was an arrow shape with a blue light that shone straight aft, and
on the stern just below the railing there was another such light just above the
waterline. The side running lights were also blue, but very small and only
visible for very limited distances. John Lappin said they used to tow a small
plank that threw up a “rooster tail” of water like a speedboat does. Bob
Imbeau added, “We called it an anchor, because it was shaped similarly and
the water shot up through the fluke part. A lot of times the ship behind could
not see the light, but the water was white, especially in the Pacific where they
threw up a long, luminescent wake which could be seen for nearly a
mile.”(HMC 89-5B, TTC p. 4) It was eerie running at night or in fog, surrounded
by other ships you could not see. Trailing a marker and with blue lights and
frequent relocation of positions, it sometimes got a little scary.(HMC 89-5B, TTC
p. 3)
It was nerve-wracking in convoy because of the necessity of
maintaining position by minutely adjusting revolutions over a period perhaps
as long as two weeks. At night blue lights were towed. Paravanes301 were
300
. Several men, thinking back fifty years, confused the convoy fog buoy markers
sometimes called “little anchors” or “sleds” with the anti-mine device, the paravane, described
earlier in this chapter.
301
. Actually he meant fog buoys, see previous footnote.
towed during the day in fog. One also had to keep the ship from
smoking.(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 3) Doyle Bales, one of the “black gang”, recalled
how the boilers had to be "blown" with a steam hose daily, but could only be
blown under cover of darkness during wartime, to prevent the enemy from
locating the vessel or vessels involved. When Bales sees smoking diesel
trucks/lorries on the highway today, he remembers that if a ship at sea made
smoke, it got sunk! Garbage was also dumped after dark to avoid being
tracked by enemy submarines.(HMC 90-35, TTC p. 2.) Another man, now a
retired ship‟s Captain, who had sailed as an Ordinary Seaman on the ill-fated
PQ17 to Murmansk, knew well why garbage was dumped a half-hour after
dark -- to keep the ship‟s course and location secret. This was even more
essential in convoy than for a ship running alone.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 3) Another
respondent, then sixteen, was dumping leftover food over the side without
realising. They were the commodore ship and he was told the Commodore
wanted him on the bridge -- not the Captain, the Commodore. He got a
dressing down: “You could‟ve put thousands of men‟s lives at stake.”
Discarded lettuce leaves could float on the water and betray their location to a
submarine.(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 5)
Bill Kirby, a shipmate of my stepfather‟s, recalled the safety
precautions incorporated in the daily work routine almost as vividly as he did
the dramatic kamikaze attack which won their ship, the S/S Marcus Daly, the
first Gallant Ship Award presented by the United States Government to a
merchant vessel sailing in the Pacific. He described the practice just
mentioned of dumping the garbage about a half-hour after sundown to avoid
submarines tracking them, and minutely detailed the method by which
watchstanders accustomed their eyes to the dark before going from lighted
cabins to stand watch on deck in blackout conditions.(HMC 90-13, TTC p. 2) On
Liberty ships the Engine Crew often left the steel door open and used the
blackout curtain only, even though the heat was “killing” the others on that
deck. There was also discussion of methods of blacking-out and of ventilating
blacked-out ships at night.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 2)
The British fired rockets when James Murphy's Malta convoy had
trouble. It lit the whole place up and “Murph” considered it foolish. He gave
detailed descriptions of escort vessels and their differences, and also the use of
spar decks on tankers to carry fighter planes.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 2 )
With respect to blackouts, Harry Kilmon knew only too well that
mistakes could happen. In the dark, just after dinner on the first or second day
out of New York in a convoy of about a hundred ships in the North Atlantic,
heading for England, they needed electricity on deck for shoring up the
deckload. Kilmon could not recall which of his first three vessels it was, but
they had power running to the deck, so they had a deckhand go into the
masthouse and throw the switch to turn it on -- but on leaving port they always
turned off the electricity from the Engine Room, and when the hand went to
get power, he did not succeed, so Kilmon was told to go turn on the power.
He went to the Engine Room and turned on the power to the proper
masthouse, but the deckhand had already turned on more switches than were
needed, when the first one did not work, and had not turned them off. Some of
these were for the cargo lights in the rigging, which were floodlights and lit up
the ship “like the sun came up”. Kilmon hit the circuit breaker and everyone
hit the panic button. The convoy commodore was right next them and the
“TBX” [actually TBY, short-range radio] went on, “Get that light out or we‟re
gonna shoot it out right now!” “And,” said Harry, “he wasn't kidding.” All
this time Kilmon, blissfully unaware, was down in the Engine Room. They
radioed down, “Get those switches off!” and he turned them off right away. It
was not very long, but for two to four minutes in the middle of a convoy the
ship had her cargo lights on. If there had been a sub, they would have been
sitting ducks. The Chief Engineer later investigated and all was explained.
Kilmon was off the hook, but it was a harrowing experience.(HMC 90-72, TTC
pp. 2-3)
There was about six hundred feet of space between vessels, and it was
easy in daytime, but at night they were often out of position.(HMC 89-6, TTC p.
1)
It was not unknown for a ship to be in the proper position in convoy at
sundown and at sunrise to be someplace entirely different. It was worst in fog,
when you had to stream fog buoys.(HMC 92-30, TTC p. 3) One of the major
worries for any deck officer in convoy was keeping position at night,(HMC 9054, TTC p. 2)
but there was likewise a lot of trouble keeping position in a large
convoy in fog, and great danger of collision under such conditions. The
engine room had to maintain strict control, such as increasing or decreasing
engine speed by one or two revolutions per minute. Vessels also dragged fog
buoys, which threw up a rooster-tail of water that could be followed by the
ship behind.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1.)
Allan Rynberg (HMC 90-6, TTC p. 1) and John Pottinger (HMC 90-8, TTC p.
1),
both of whom retired as Chief Engineers, agreed it was particularly difficult
for Engine Room staff to maintain position as the navigating officers desired
when in the close confines of a convoy. Pottinger added that position-keeping
in convoy was difficult because there was no tachometer on Liberty ships and
the engine‟s revolutions had to be counted by the clock. Hank Adams said,
“When you sail on deck and you‟re lookout and you‟re up in the bow, trying to
hold position, you have to notify the bridge whether you‟re gaining or losing
on the ship ahead just by looking at the little blue light on their stern.”(HMC 9015, TTC p. 1)
nutshell.
And that sums everyone's station-keeping problems up in a
Another Engineer, Clinton Johnson, agreed that the problem in convoy
is holding position. The Engine Crew had to bring the engine speed up or
down one revolution at a time by the analog speedometer. The submarine-type
throttle with notches every three revolutions was not accurate, so a wooden
wedge had to be made to hold the throttle between the notches. Then they
started calling for one-half or even one-quarter revolution variations, and
finally the Engine Crew had to make a mark on the shaft and time it visually.
This made for banter between Departments, usually on the same relative level
of rank (Second Assistant Engineer vs. Second Mate, etc.)(HMC 90-24, TTC p. 1)
Jim Cunningham, a Deckhand, recalled that the water spraying through
the fog buoy could be heard as well as seen. He also said position-keeping in a
big convoy was easier if you were in the middle.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 4) “Murph”
Murphy, surprisingly for an Engineer, described the use of the “sled” (fog
buoy) for position-keeping and added detail of what it was like to run alone,
how one got one‟s orders in convoy, etc., all of which information would seem
to have been the province of the Deck Department.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 3)
Most of the discussion of position-keeping centred on the delicate
manoeuvring necessary, but a few men spoke of convoy speeds and the
reasons for them. Bob Hiller remembered escort vessels had to be twice as
fast as the slowest ship in a convoy,(HMC 89-6, TTC p. 1) because it was
sometimes necessary for an escort to charge rapidly from the rear of the
convoy to the front in order to discharge her protective duties. David Leary
recalled that at normal convoy speed it took fifteen days to steam from
Norfolk, Virginia to Gibraltar,(HMC 90-42, TTC p. 2) and “Del” Alley reminded
me that the speed of the convoy was determined by the speed of the slowest
ship. Many times, he said, pre-World War II “C” type ships would
mysteriously “disappear” from convoys because their captains chose to run
alone and take their own chances; most made out all right. Alley‟s own ship
was much faster. In a very slow convoy of six to eight knots, vessels such as
his could make sixteen to eighteen.(HMC 90-45, TTC pp. 2-3) Convoys took
almost two weeks to cross the North Atlantic from New York to Bristol.
James Higman, interviewed jointly with Jim North, volunteered the
information that smaller convoys could be arranged with the faster ships, but,
of course, no convoy could go faster than its slowest ship.
Weather could be a problem, too.(HMC 90-17, TTC p. 1) Many convoys
became dispersed and the escorts had to rush about and herd them back
together. Ship‟s speeds varied such a lot. They were not fast in the early days
of the war. Tramps had top speeds of eight, nine, or possibly ten knots with a
fair wind. Most were coal-burners and another sin at sea was making smoke.
They were always getting scolded. The cardinal sins were smoke-making, not
keeping position, and dumping rubbish illicitly.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 5) When they
were not actively involved in the operation of the convoy itself, or the vessel in
which they were serving, men‟s attention quite naturally focused on the
conditions under which they lived and worked. The final section of this
chapter deals with that area of shipboard life.
C.
CONDITIONS ABOARD
Many of those interviewed during the English fieldwork spoke of vilely
unpleasant conditions aboard ship, both before and during the war. Some had
even found it necessary to provide themselves with a “donkey‟s breakfast”, a
straw-filled ticking mattress or palliasse, as many vessels provided no bedding
whatsoever for the crews. This sort of treatment had been unknown in the
United States for some time previous, even during the Great Depression.
British ships also tended still to have a communal “gloryhole” forecastle for
ratings, or at best a few rooms with several men bunking in each. American
ships were usually set up with a maximum of three to a room, as three was the
usual complement comprising one watch; thus men already asleep were not
disturbed by the comings and goings when the watches between their own
changed, and mass-produced standard ships, such as the American Liberty
ships302 had much improved standards of living for the crews.
Gone forever is the miserable fo‟c‟sle. Officers get private
staterooms with desks, wardrobe and shower, but even seamen
bunk only two to an outside room. Berths are comfortable[sic]
wide and standard equipment includes lockers, hot and cold
running water, mirrors and reading lights. Separate mess and
recreation rooms with comfortable sofas, writing desks and
books are provided for crew and petty officers. All rooms are
air-cooled. And when a man comes off duty at noon or four
A.M., he finds the steward‟s pantry open to serve him hot
coffee, soft drinks and sandwiches. Remembering the awful
food sailors used to eat and how much a good meal means on a
monotonous voyage, the [Maritime] Commission insisted that
all meals should be balanced and well cooked.303
In contrast, Irishman Bill Fortune, now of Merseyside, said:
Crews did not count for much then. They did not have
single-berth accommodation, showers, and the like. They had
not a forecastle, but an aftercastle with eleven men to a single
room. The Firemen lived on one side and the deckhands
302
. These were commonly called “Sam boats” in Great Britain, as those given her
under the “Lend-Lease” Act were named or renamed, every name beginning with the letters
SAM. I have not verified the reason for this procedure, but have been told casually both that it
stood for “Uncle Sam”, the mascot of the United States and also that it was an acronym for
Standard American Merchant [Ship].
303
. Palmer, 50. Note the earlier description of the meal I ate aboard the Lane
Victory in Chapter Two.
(Fortune used the word “sailors” -- this is a common
distinction) on the other. English ships had no iceboxes or
night lunches. There was nothing for keeping food in the
accommodation. Some did not even have a messroom for the
crew. In the Themistocles,304 a big, coal-burner passenger boat,
there was no messroom for the crew. They lived forward, with
the Firemen on one side and the Sailors (deckhands) on the
other -- three Seamen (ABs) and an Ordinary (seaman) in each
room with a table in the centre, about eighteen by twenty-four
inches square, and no other messroom. Not only that, you were
lucky if you got anything to eat in her. She was a hungry ship.
Shaw Savill‟s was also a hungry company, which is how they
got the nickname “Slow Starvation and Agony”. As for
Cunard, Fortune was only on one Cunard boat and does not
know how some men stood them all their lives, as they were
awful. In the old days there were no showers or single-bed
cabins. When a ship left port, each man was issued a bucket in
which to bathe and wash his clothes, and some ships locked the
fresh water pumps except for one hour a day.(HMC 92-32, TTC pp.
4-6)305
A number of ships and companies on both sides of the Atlantic were
known as “bad feeders”306 and several were mentioned as having been run on
the “pound and pint” system, whereby a certain amount of food, inventoried in
pound and/or pints, depending on the commodity, was allotted to each
individual and such items as tinned milk, sugar, and tea were not set out on a
communal table, but kept separately in each man‟s locker and shared only by
express consent within a specific group. It is certain that the “night lunch” of
sandwiches or leftovers regularly supplied to United States seafarers on the
late watches was not a common feature of British ships, although a custom
known as the “black pan”307 acted as a viable alternative under certain
circumstances. Cockroaches, weevils, maggots and rats were also common
features of life at sea at the end of the 1930s and a number of interviewees told
of clever methods of combatting these vermin, from sealing the small holes in
304
. He pronounced this in the standard English manner (th‟-MIST-o-cleese) once,
but at this juncture he pronounced the name “themmy-STOCKLES”. See Chapter Eight for
unique nautical pronunciations.
305
. See also the section on Ethnic Relations in Chapter Five.
306
. A term in common usage amongst merchant mariners, meaning that the ship or
company involved provided scant food or food of poor quality, or possibly both. Sometimes a
ship or company with this problem is called “hungry”. One English shipping company was
nicknamed “Hungry Harrison‟s”, another “Hungry Hogarth‟s”. But a ship which provides
good and plentiful victuals is always a “good feeder”. “She fed well,” is a classic compliment
for the quality and quantity of food aboard.
307
. See Chapter Seven for further detail on this custom.
the milk tin with matchsticks308 to cementing a cut loaf back together with
leftover porridge.309 Despite these data, most North American seamen recall
that merchant ships generally “fed well”.
With regard to vermin, a British respondent was impressed by the
efficiency of the maritime pest control system in Los Angeles Harbour. The
man in charge told them, after the spraying, to leave the powder down for
twenty-four hours and then do what they liked. They never saw another
cockroach. The Port Authority rat man told them “You have so many rats
aboard; so many males and so many females.” The interviewee does not know
how he knew this, but they caught well over 150 rats.310 You would see the
rats at night, but not in the daytime. They used rat guards on every line ashore,
so he does not know where they came aboard, but they can multiply very
quickly.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 2)
“Johnny” Johnston, a strong trade union man, said conditions were
very bad before the unions achieved prominence. Only key men (Bosun,
[Chief] Steward, Deck Engineer/Donkeyman) had rooms to themselves. The
rest lived in a common forecastle with bunk-over-bunk and a single overhead
light. Rousing a watch roused everybody. The bunks were in bad condition
with a straw mattress, often terrible. Not until the union got into power did
things improve. Water was rationed. After each watch the water pump was
unlocked for so many hours.311 It all changed in later years, but at that time
nobody looked after the seamen. On the Ship‟s Articles they had “whack”.312
There was chicken or pork chops on Sunday -- the rest of the week there was
308
. Peter Rogers, HMC 92-49, and Tom Thornton, HMC 92-56.
. Capt. Tom Goodyear, HMC 91-4, TTC p. 6 and HMC 91-5, TTC p. 1.
310
. My stepfather, Capt. Fred Steele, and several of his maritime acquaintances,
some twenty years later were likewise impressed by a similar demonstration of specialised
knowledge by rat-catchers in the same harbour. Apparently the detailed information is
acquired by examining the vermin‟s droppings.
311
. Note Bill Fortune‟s testimony a few pages above.
312
. The rations which must, legally, be given a seaman -- so many pounds of meat a
month, etc. -- compare with British “pound and pint” system.
309
curry-and-rice or the like.313 Fried eggs were unheard of; instead there were
powdered eggs or occasionally scrambled eggs -- and a lot of salt meat -- fried.
Some shipping lines made an effort to feed well, but others were not good.
Johnston never sailed on Isbrandsen Lines so could not verify Capt. John
Klocko‟s assertion that everything on their ships was fish-oiled and slippery,
but he described differences in conditions between coastwise and foreigngoing ships and told how much coastwise shipping there used to be. He also
spoke of cleanliness and general health problems on sulphur and bauxite
carriers, and the problems inherent in Alcoa‟s passenger ships hauling bauxite
on their return runs, which finally put a stop to their passenger trade. He
detailed loading and unloading processes with their shortcomings, and told
how the line was forced to close down.(HMC 90-66, TTC p. 1)
Except for Mr. Johnston‟s testimony, no description given of
conditions aboard any United States- or Canadian-flag ship was bad enough to
warrant my recollection. This was emphatically not the situation as regarded
British-flag vessels of the early war years. Many British informants were
almost fulsome in their praise of the „Sam‟ boats, those United States-built
Liberty ships which had come to England via the Lend-Lease Agreement and
thus brought the conditions described above by Palmer within reach of the
British seafarer as well as his North American counterpart. Most comments
on shipboard conditions were positive, however, except where troopships were
involved, and even then the negative remarks were directed primarily at the
troops‟ quarters and victualling, not at those of the crew.
A few disparaging remarks about shipboard conditions during the prewar and early war years were made by informants from Newfoundland.
313
. Peter Rogers (HMC 92-49) calls this meal “hailstones and duck shite.”
Despite the apparent ignorance of some of today‟s authors,314 it is to be noted
again that, during the Second World War, Newfoundland was a self-governing
member of the British Commonwealth, not -- as it is today -- a Province of
Canada. One of the favourite descriptions given their home by
Newfoundlanders is “England‟s oldest colony; Canada‟s newest Province”.
The island‟s ties with England during the Second World War were strong and
its traditions more similar to those of the British Isles than to the North
American mainland. Therefore it is altogether reasonable to link the material
gathered there to that amassed in the United Kingdom, rather than to the North
American data.
According to Capt. Ed March, T-2 tankers were not the first to cut
down forecastles to two-man size. They had “watch forecastles” of three men
each, the same as a Liberty or Victory ship, and carried fewer people than the
old shipping board ships, which had a black gang forecastle and a sailors‟
forecastle, but even some of these latter had been “fixed up with watch
forecastles”.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 6) There were also the Canadian-built Park
standard ships, the basic concept of which was similar to the Liberty ships, but
with some differences in design. They were about 10,000 tons, and about the
same speed and length as the Liberties, but the United States accommodation
spaces were better, the crew‟s quarters being all above decks. The Canadian
vessels had the quarters below the main decks, presumably with the
perspective that people are dispensable. As young boys, Cadets and firsttrippers took this in their stride, along with the hardship and the loneliness. It
could have been a lot worse slugging it out on the battlefields in Europe and
the Pacific.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 2) United States Navy men were often surprised
at the roomy quarters enjoyed by the merchant marine, with a forecastle for
314
. Several authors of recent books regarding the war at sea have described them as
“Canadians”, and so they are today, although Newfoundland did not join in Confederation
with Canada until 1949, well after the end of the war.
each watch. “Tex” English explained the reasons for this setup315 and
described the quarters, saying, “The Navy would‟ve had fifteen men in the
same quarters.” That was probably an exaggeration, but he is quite right in
saying that the Navy would have put far more men on the same size
vessel.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 5) In CPR [Canadian Pacific Railroad] boats the
Catering staff had good bedding, but in Shaw Savill316 they were housed in a
“gloryhole”317 up forward with a “donkey‟s breakfast”318 for a bed.(HMC 92-8,
TTC p. 1)
Like “Johnny” Johnston, Jack Sharrock talked about his union
affiliation and how unions had made a tremendous difference to conditions.
As a boy he sailed with twenty-five or thirty crewmen to a room. Now each
has his own. He described the luxury aboard his last ship and said he was
awfully proud that the owners and the union brothers had cut out all
unnecessary paperwork. This is an attitude typical of the capacity in which he
was sailing at his retirement -- that of Purser -- since the Purser does much of
the ship‟s paperwork.(HMC 92-3, TTC p. 6)
Conditions were usually far worse for crews aboard the escort vessels
than they were for the merchant mariners. Once, at sea, the breakwater ripped
off HMS Middleton‟s forecastle and she shipped a lot of water. It was shored
up, and she managed to get safely back to Scapa Flow for repairs. It did not
take long to repair, and only leaked a bit more afterward, but the forecastle had
always leaked on that ship. There was nearly always water washing around
315
. As has been said, this was so that the occupants could be roused for their watch,
or prepare for bed afterward, without disturbing others who were sleeping.
316
. Shaw Savill and Albion Lines were nicknamed “Slow Starvation and Agony”
for their initial letters and a reputation for bad shipboard conditions on their vessels.
317
. A “gloryhole” is a communal dormitory-type forecastle in which, traditionally,
all departments, or at least the entirety of one, doss down together in tiered bunks or swung
hammocks and this accommodation serves as a messroom as well.
318
. A “donkey‟s breakfast” is a mattress consisting of a ticking bag filled with
straw. and is so-called because donkeys eat straw, and not because of any similarity of
phraseology to the British term “dog‟s breakfast”, a definite pejorative. Usually, in the days of
sail, and often, until the Second World War, seafarers were required to provide their own such
bedding when they came aboard.
your feet on the mess deck.319 The breakwater had been ripped off the ship
when she was nearly new, before Roy Williams joined her, and although it had
been repaired, it had never been the same. Conditions on HMS Middleton were
atrocious, especially for seamen and their living quarters.(HMC 92-18, TTC pp. 1
and 3)
It is notable that men of the United States Navy seem not to have
experienced quite such a hard lot -- or if they did, it is seldom mentioned.
Perhaps this is because so few served on small vessels in the telling conditions
of the North Atlantic and Arctic waters.
Certainly the living conditions of ordinary merchant ratings were much
better on United States-flag ships. Officers on British-flag vessels did pretty
well with accommodation and food, but ratings did not. Dick Playfer
remembers the first ship he sailed on, where the unlicensed crew still shared a
common forecastle. He seldom had occasion to enter, but when he did, he
wondered how they could live that way; it was like the nineteenth century.
Such practices had nearly disappeared by then, and by the 1940s most crew
accommodation was in the stern rather than a forecastle and had become a
two- to four-man room, rather than the crew living all together in one
communal space.(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 2)320
It was a pretty tough life at times in convoy in the North Atlantic.
Once you got into the Pacific it was like being on a cruise, but you still could
not afford to be frivolous. There were no problems with people at sea; all
were friendly.(HMC 92-30, TTC p. 2) It was a rougher life for some, however.
Ed Stanko showed me photographs of himself and his shipmates sleeping in
all their clothes while in convoy off the Atlantic coastline of North
America.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 1) Ed Richards never undressed to sleep for the
319
. Joe Bennett agreed that: “Destroyers ... were notorious for water on the
messdecks.”(HMC 92-64, TTC p. 3)
320
. It is interesting to note that crew accommodations are often even now called
“forecastles”, despite the fact that they are no longer in that part of the ship.
entire voyage to the Sicilian landings, even in harbour at Palermo, and
elsewhere, because of magnetic mines and the like.(HMC 90-61, TTC p. 5) Hank
Adams was “bothered a lot” by the idea of serving aboard an ammunition ship,
because if you were under attack and a neighbouring vessel was blown up “an
ammunition carrier just exploded and was no more.” On one such ship, the
skipper insisted that the crew be at their emergency stations within thirty
seconds and made them practice four and five times in an evening. He swore
if they had a fire they would fight it, and not just abandon ship. They slept
with their clothes on.(HMC 90-14, TTC pp. 1 and 3) Bob Parr recalled that there
were blackouts and you had to sleep with all your clothes on -- it was not an
order, but just common sense.(HMC 92-2, TTC p. 1-2) Capt. Emerson Chodzko
likewise remembered that in such hazardous conditions as convoy one is
obliged to take precautions -- sleeping fully dressed, observing blackouts with
deadlights down so they provide no ventilation, maintaining one‟s seaman‟s
papers in a special folder chained to one‟s person, carefully maintaining all
safety gear.... And they were constantly reminded that: “A slip of the lip can
sink a ship.”321(HMC 89-2, TTC pp. 3-4)
In the North Atlantic in gale weather, Capt. Frank Waters slept on deck
in a life preserver because of the ship‟s rolling,(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 1) and while
steaming in the Indian Ocean, “Pig-Eye” Watson, rigged a bunk swung under a
lifeboat on deck, where it was cool. The Captain put a stop to it and made him
return to his forecastle.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 1) Bill Fortune, finding his quarters
like a steambath, made himself a hammock and slept on deck.(HMC 92-32, TTC
p. 6)
The most pathetic of these creative types, whose creativity “backfired”,
was Bob Hiller. He resourcefully slept on deck because of the extreme heat,
but was driven by rainy weather to move his cot into the back of an Army
truck in the deck cargo. Waking in the middle of the night, he found himself
321
. Further details of the tendency to extreme security-consciousness in the U.S.
during World War II are found in Chapter Six.
violently seasick from the altered motion of his resourcefully invented
accommodation.(HMC 89-6, TTC p. 1)
It was not, however, the sleeping and living accommodations which
made the most vivid impression on the seafarer. It was the food. The
desirability of a particular Captain, Chief Steward or individual ship was often
linked to his or her reputation as a good or bad “feeder” and a ship rated as a
“hungry” vessel was the worst. Even entire companies achieved notoriety for
the quality of their victualling and Thomas and James Harrison of Liverpool
acquired the dubious distinction of being labelled “Hungry Harrisons‟”, while
“Hungry Hogarth‟s” was likewise stigmatised. Harrisons‟ funnel
[smokestack] logo of two broad white bands on either side of a narrow red one
earned them the additional indignity of the unofficial motto: “Two of fat and
one of lean.”322 Alfred Holt‟s “Blue Funnel” Line fed well and was renowned
for providing excellent accommodation for crew as well as passengers -- and
even Cadets,(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 2) but a Newfoundland respondent flatly
asserted that in the Merchant Navy you were never hungry -- one benefit of
being a sailor on a ship was there was never a food shortage. He often thought
the Armed Forces suffered many hardships in comparison; the Merchant Navy
always had clean beds to go to and always plenty of good substantial food
every day.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 3)
Capt. Frank Waters said the merchant marine always ate well,(HMC 901, TTC p. 3)
but Norman Law was reminded that after three or four months at
sea, one made a regular habit of checking the macaroni on one‟s plate “to see
if it had a hole”, as worms were often found inside the tubes. One also
checked the bread by holding it up to the light and flicking out the dark spots
which resulted from bugs in the flour. Once they loaded meat in Egypt and
were told it was beef, but Law knew better, having worked in a butcher‟s
322
. HMC 92-56, TTC p. 2 and HMC 92-58, TTC p. 4, among others.
shop.(HMC 90-38, TTC p. 1) Roy Williams remembered life on a naval escort
vessel anchored in the Kola Inlet, not so different from the merchant marine
survivors‟ there. At Archangel, supplies were reduced to black bread, corned
beef, and boiled rice. They had very little else -- no white bread -- although
they did have a little butter, which did not last long. Even these meagre
victuals were rationed. That was why they ate at the International Club when
they could. There, they had American tinned ham, black bread, and “Kompot”
(a hot drink made from stewed dried fruit). There was not much else. On
Sundays, the Russians gave them yak meat, which was purplish and covered in
big flies. It was delivered in an open yak-pulled cart by a man with a crutch.
Despite the fact that it was 65o F. in August, all this meat was cooked and
eaten.(HMC 92-17, TTC pp. 4, 2, and 6)
Donald Gibbs‟s first ship was so old that the refrigeration unit went
bad and they lost all their fresh meat, eggs, milk, and produce. They picked up
fresh supplies in both Trinidad and Georgetown, but there were no facilities to
provide meat or fresh produce other than fruit. When a Canadian tanker pulled
into Trinidad, they got about ten halves of pork -- whole smoked sides. All
had to help load them, but they were good meat.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 3) There
were similar problems replenishing victual stores in the Pacific during the war.
Meal after meal consisted of turnip greens and boiled barley -- and SPAM! A
trip ashore for provisions in New Guinea resulted in cured meat so unpleasant
it was nicknamed “Soogee323 beef” or “Soogeeyaki”. Steve Browne was a nonswimmer, but was so hungry for meat that when a large piece of this
323
. “Soogee” is the name commonly attached by seafarers to a cleansing compound
[I believe it is caustic soda and lye soap] used for such grimy tasks as swabbing the decks.
Apparently they felt this meat tasted as if it had been marinated in the stuff.
unpalatable stuff was dropped over the side during loading, he actually dived
after it, thus acquiring the nickname of “Meathook”.(HMC 90-50, TTC p. 1)324
Capt. R.A. Simpson remembers conditions in the South Atlantic in
1938-1940. There was no refrigeration, only iceboxes. Fresh food lasted no
more than ten days after they had left England, and even a normal, nonwartime trip to South America lasted three weeks. Everything was a problem.
Fresh water was a problem. When he was an Apprentice, a tramp carried two
ten-ton water tanks for all purposes, operated with a hand-pump.(HMC 92-5,
TTC p. 7)
With regard to the lack of refrigeration, Capt. Simpson said a few
days after leaving port, they were always on hardtack, salt fish, and similar
“horrible” stuff. And often water was a problem: Once, coming around South
Africa solo, they had to take the water stores out of the lifeboats to survive, as
hot weather and wartime re-routing had rendered the ship‟s stores
inadequate.(HMC 92-6, TTC pp. 1-2)
Apprentices were most concerned about finding something to eat.325
They were watch-keeping all night, young, and working hard in the open air,
so were always starving. They got “dry stores” -- one tin of Nestlé‟s milk
between the four of them per week -- which did not last long, coffee and tea,
cheese, pickles, jam, but not much bread, as that was made every day. Two
loaves between four lads did not go far. They also got their meals, but any
hassles they had were associated with “pinching” food from the Engineers‟
Mess, the Stewards‟ Pantry, etc. It was always food.(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 3)
There was so much marmalade and peanut butter aboard one informant‟s
ships, however, that they often jettisoned full cans, just to get rid of them. He
324
. See also Robert Carse, The Long Haul: The United States Merchant Service in
World War II, (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1965), 186-187. A ship‟s
supplies are replenished by the Army with tinned SPAM, which is prepared in every possible
way. Upon reaching a port where more extensive victualling is possible, the crew jettison the
remainder of the SPAM in disgust.
325
. Compare this with some of the remarks in Chapter Five concerning the United
States Navy Armed Guard and their eating habits aboard.
has finally begun to eat peanut butter again, almost fifty years later, but not
marmalade. He thinks there has to be a better use for sour oranges.(HMC 90-40,
TTC p. 1)326
As the war progressed conditions aboard ship improved, the “gutrobbers” were overcome, and merchant seamen finally got a decent meal at
least once a day.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 1) Harry Kilmon, Jr. said there was no
problem with food aboard. There were always two choices of entree. It might
make one feel guilty, because in places like India the longshoremen fought
over the garbage as if it were a feast. One of his most vivid memories was of
being unloaded by “the human mules of Basra” who made a continuous chain,
hour after hour, carrying refrigerators on their backs in the heat of the Persian
Gulf.(HMC 90-73, TTC p. 1)
Dockers, like the U.S. Navy Armed Guard or the British Apprentices,
would not forebear to “liberate” a few desired items of food, especially under
the privations of the wartime rationing system. Keith Marshall was relief Mate
on the Port Sydney in Liverpool, when she had a cargo of fresh eggs. Dockers
were breaking into the cases and boiling the eggs up a dozen at a time,
wrapped in muslin, in their water heaters. Marshall, being young, told the
Mate to stop this behaviour. The Mate asked him how, nonchalantly expecting
that would be an end to it. Instead of accepting defeat gracefully, however,
Marshall summoned the police himself. After that, whenever they saw
Marshall going ashore, the dockers would call, “Are you going to get the
police?” I was surprised he had not got a nickname out of that incident, rather
like “One-Egg” Turner.327 Marshall, himself, was reminded of a joke about a
Chief Steward who used to say, “Give them plenty; give them one apiece.”
Mr. Marshall and his shipmates were fortunate, as, running to Australasia, they
326
. It is curious to note in this instance that the word marmalade derives from the
Portuguese for “seasickness” as the conserve was originally thought to prevent this complaint.
327
. See Chapter Eight, under Nicknames.
could get enough fresh food there to last them the rest of the trip. After the
war, Mr. Marshall was in the North Sea trade, running from Great Britain to
Antwerp and Hamburg. The Germans in Hamburg, living in worse conditions
even than the wartime dockers in Great Britain, broke into tins of butter and
ate it by the handfuls, as they were starving. The Army guards aboard would
call out, “Kalaboosh!”, meaning they would take them to jail, which most of
those German dockers would have preferred, as they would have been better
fed there. “It was amusing.”(HMC 92-30, TTC p. 5)
The food varied, but was more good than bad. Bob Parr was never on
a bad feeding ship and always had enough to eat.(HMC 92-2, TTC pp. 1-2) “Tex”
English, likewise, was never on a “hungry” ship, but always on “good
feeders”. On one, however, they had a bad Cook. The Captain fired him
because he had “messed up” quite badly. “He couldn‟t boil water,” said Tex,
in describing the Cook‟s shortcomings, and maintained that his replacement
was much better.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 5)328
The calibre of the cookery was easily as important to the men aboard as
the quality of the food itself, and the job was not always easy. Rex Rothwell
was on a Dutch expatriate ship as a passenger, en route to join a ship in Hong
Kong for his company. The Dutch vessel was carrying many merchant seamen
to join ships elsewhere, and the food was dreadful. On Christmas Day, 1940,
they were going down the coast of South Africa and there was no enemy
activity at the time. The Christmas dinner was so appalling that it provoked an
incident. The Merchant Navy passengers walked past the Chef and one after
the other threw their dinners at him to demonstrate their dissatisfaction. It
caused “a heck of a row”.(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 4)
Capt. J.K. Gorrie told of another galley-related incident:
328
. See Chapter Five in the Ethnic Relations section for the tale of another Cook
who suffered for his shortcomings.
Once, in Lourenço Marques, the Cook and Second Cook
were arrested and detained ashore. When it came time to sail,
the crew refused to go without a Cook, but the Chief Steward
produced a Cook‟s “ticket” and they sailed. After three days,
however, he had heat prostration, and again there was no Cook.
The Captain then approached the informant and asked, “Gorrie,
can you bake bread?” He replied in the negative, but the
helmsman broke in, saying he had been a Cook in a trawler and
could bake bread. “So forthwith we got the Articles and signed
him off as a Quartermaster and signed him on as Cook. And
we suffered with him for six months. And he cooked all right - as long as you didn‟t go near the galley and look at it!” The
whole crew329 were Hull trawlermen, “who are not sailors in the
accepted sense”. As soon as you hit port, they go ashore, no
matter what is still to be done. They are typical fishermen and
do not fit on deep-sea ships -- at all -- where you must have
some continuity of work to deal with cargo, beams, hatches,
decks, and all in port. “So we had quite a lively time with ‟em - good sailors, though, when you‟d sober them up.”(HMC 92-51,
TTC pp. 7-8)
The war came when retired Chief Baker and Confectioner James
McCaffrey was en route to Montreal in a passenger liner. There were more
passengers than he had ever seen, all trying to get home to North America. A
ship ahead of them had been late sailing, so the Montrose took her passengers
as well. There were two ships‟ worth of passengers and only three Bakers.
The Second Baker, the Chief Baker‟s brother-in-law, had simply changed his
clothes and walked off the ship while lunch was being prepared immediately
before sailing, and they were stuck. They had thought they would get relief
Bakers because of another delayed sailing, but this was not the case.
McCaffrey was given the task of doing all the confectionery work and the
Chief Baker and the “night man” would do all the heavy work.
They were late getting into port that night, about midnight, but decided
to finish as there was no night man now -- the Third Baker was usually the
night man, but he was now in the Second Baker‟s place. They went from
Liverpool to Greenock, Tail of the Bank. About 3:30 a.m. they took a break
and McCaffrey was in the “gloryhole”330 when he was told the ferry [pilot
329
. All the unlicensed personnel.
. This is an old-fashioned communal forecastle or crew accommodation.
330
boat?] was in and was asked to put on a clean white coat and go to the Purser‟s
Office to see if any Bakers were available. He recognised a printer but no
Bakers. He and the Third Baker were going to leave the ship as well, but the
Kosher Cook overheard them and told the Chef who promised them two more
Bakers. When McCaffrey went back to work in the “fecky”331 shop, he found a
tall, young Porter had just arrived to help out. McCaffrey showed him how to
make ice cream and told him he would be all right as long as he did what he
was told and if he got confused, to ask. They did pretty well then, getting a
Steward to help the other Bakers. The helpers were given ice cream and other
treats for helping out. On leaving Greenock all were promoted -- the Third
Baker became the Second Baker and McCaffrey became Third Baker.
Halfway across the Atlantic the ship was ordered to turn back. There
was a double load of passengers, sleeping wherever they could, and most of
them panicked. After steaming back for about twelve hours, the ship was
allowed to turn again and resume her original course, but it made an extra
day‟s work. When they saw the coastline of the St. Lawrence all aboard were
happy. McCaffrey does not know how they knew there was a war on, but they
did and, on reaching Montreal, the passengers were off the ship “in a blink”.
There was plenty of cleaning to be done then. The night before docking used
to be called “galley sports night” and involved a major cleanup, but without a
full crew there were not sufficient people to accomplish this. The men got
cleaned up in their white jackets and went to the Neptune Pub on the dock
road, but the Bakers were delayed, as they were understaffed. The Chef came
into the kitchen and asked where the lads were. “In the Neppy.” “Go get
them. We sail in ten minutes. The whistle will blow in five minutes. You
have fifteen minutes.” The Bakers dashed over in their singlets, as they had no
time to dress. At first they were not believed, but when the ship‟s whistle
331
. “Fecky” is short for “confectionery”.
blew, the others knew it was true and just made it back in time. They sailed
for home “empty” [with no passengers]. The cooking staff still had work to
do, but the rest of the crew, Stewards and such, painted the ship‟s
superstructure “battleship grey” during the return voyage. They sailed
independently and were lucky, as when they landed they found the Athenia had
been “bumped off” whilst on the same course. On arrival in Glasgow they
were asked if they would stay on, under T124 articles.332 McCaffrey agreed,
and after home leave stayed “in digs” in Glasgow while the ship was refitted.
She became HMS Forfar and from then until Dunkirk patrolled from Iceland to
the Faeroes to her base in Greenock. It was very cold. “There was two inches
of ice inside the ship and everything was very slippery.”(HMC 92-8, TTC pp. 2-4)
A British informant was sent to join a vessel in the Manchester Ship
Canal, but found conditions aboard so appalling that he refused to sail if his
cabin was not cleaned. “During the war this was heresy.” The cabin was
cleaned, and he did sail; the ship, however, was dogged by misfortune. She
got as far as Liverpool Bay and broke down. When repaired, she went to Loch
Ewe to join a convoy, which she then lost, arriving twenty-eight days later in
New York where she loaded for Halifax, but ran aground on Chebucto Head
before making Bedford Basin.(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 3)333
Cliff Rehkopf was only seventeen and had come from a clean home.
His first ship, the Robin Grey, was thirty years old and had been in the
Mediterranean and been hit before he joined her. He described the filthy
conditions in the forecastles. He went back ashore and said she was too dirty,
but was told if he “didn‟t go he would wish he had”. He went back
aboard.(HMC 90-38, TTC p. 2) Herbert Taylor, a Scot, said most conditions
aboard were terrible, especially in the Engine Room and galleys. “Shipowners
332
. See Chapter Five, Section A, for a more complete explanation of the T124 and
T124X schemes.
333
. There was even a local pilot aboard at the time.
are funny people;” he said, “If they can save money, they will.” There were
few oil-fired engines at that time -- they were mostly coal.(HMC 92-11, TTC p. 7)
James McCaffrey remembered that one ship in which he served had
coke-fired ovens and not much space in the bakehouse. One had to stoke the
ovens over one‟s shoulder with a scoop made from a bent pie plate.(HMC 92-8,
TTC p. 1)
This coal-fired vessel also took on bunkers through the bakehouse,
and it was filthy. In Durban, African prisoners “dressed like the Liverpool
football team in white shorts and red jerseys” carried the coal aboard in wicker
baskets, and the dust even penetrated the muslin beef wrappers which were put
over the portholes to keep it -- and insects -- out. You could not get the
bakehouse properly clean and do your regular job. McCaffrey was delighted
when he arrived back in London to find a telegram asking him to rejoin his
previous ship in Liverpool.(HMC 92-8, TTC pp. 1-2)
In the CPR [Canadian Pacific Railroad] boats the Catering staff had fed
themselves from the kitchen and stores, but McCaffrey expounded at length on
the poor feeding aboard a Shaw Savill334 vessel. He told how he, as a young
Third Baker, had balked the system, angering the Chef and the Butcher, but
getting better food for himself and his mates, and how he was applauded for so
doing. The Chefs on that boat were “gentlemen” who left all the work to
subordinates. Mr. McCaffrey signed off that ship at the end of the trip.(HMC
92-8, TTC pp. 1-2)
Joseph Elms, in the Catering Department of a trooper, discussed the
high quality of food on prewar and postwar cruise ships and said they took
almost as much care with the food for the troops. He discussed the routine of
boiling eggs two thousand at a time, making soup, and serving meals to the
334
. Shaw Savill and Albion Lines were nicknamed “Slow Starvation and Agony”
for their initial letters and a reputation for bad shipboard conditions.
troops when five thousand was not an uncommonly large shipload.(HMC 92-1,
TTC p. 2)
Memories of blackout on Liberty ships, as cited earlier in this chapter,
included the information that the Engine crew often left the steel door open
and used the blackout curtain only, even though the heat was “killing” the
others on that deck, and that blacking ships out at night led to problems of
ventilation in tropical waters.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 2) A number of interviewees
lamented the linked difficulties in torrid climes of maintaining blackout and
allowing for adequate ventilation simultaneously. Several spoke of being
unable to indulge in such recreational pursuits as reading or card-playing
because of these exigencies. When “trooping”335 out to the tropics in vessels
built for the North Atlantic run, the heat was unbearable, especially in the
bakehouse, and it was even worse before sunrise, when Cooks and Bakers
were locked in for blackout. All had prickly heat and the thirst was terrible.
Stale water was awful, but it could be mixed with juice from the tinned fruits.
They had to take quinine tablets, as well, which puckered the mouth and had a
terrible taste, so they had to have juice. The sweating was terrible; the sweat
ran into their boots so they could actually pour the water out, and they could
not wear trousers at work because they caused “prickly heat” with a rash or
even blisters in genital areas. There was no fresh water for bathing, so they
had to use salt water.
Chief Baker and Confectioner James McCaffrey made his crew “kilts”
from white 200-lb. flour sacks, and gave them each a daily tablespoonful of
salted salad oil, which helped somewhat, then he set about finding a solution
to the sweat rash problem. He asked his girlfriend336 to purchase three dozen
335
. “Trooping” in this context means carrying troops aboard a passenger vessel or a
cargo ship refitted for the purpose.
336
. They later married, and, as his wife, she verified this at the time of the interview.
menstrual pads337 for him. When she asked why, he replied, “We‟re going to
wear them.” She was flabbergasted, but did as he asked. He then gave each of
his men three pads. One was worn at work to soak up the sweat and combat
the prickly heat. Each man had a one-gallon tin of fresh water to wash in
daily, and in which the pad last used was soaked to extract the perspiration it
had absorbed the previous day. It was hung to dry after this soaking, and
would dry within a day -- “one wearing, one soaking, one drying”. He
chuckled as he told me that most of his crew wore them and were no longer
troubled by prickly heat, but that they had had to endure a fair amount of
harassment from the rest of the ship‟s company who made ribald remarks
about “those queers in the bakehouse”.(HMC 92-8, TTC p. 5)
Alfred Holt‟s Blue Funnel Line insisted their Cadets and Apprentices
wear a clean white suit every day in the tropics, and had a Chinese laundry -the Catering Department was staffed by Chinese -- aboard for that very
purpose. The suits were very uncomfortable, though.(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 2) A
Second Radio Officer, whose Superior was a very meticulous individual,
wonders to this day how he made his white uniforms so white -- and so stiff,
as there was no instant starch in those days and one had to do all one‟s own
laundry aboard, but the Chief Radio Operator always had immaculate tropical
gear.(HMC 92-62, TTC p. 2)
Two Leading Telegraphists, both of whom served on Royal Navy
escort vessels, were charged for not being in “rig of the day”.338 One described
his misconduct as a “private mutiny” and “a little victory over the unpleasant
coxswain”. He was wearing overalls. This never mattered at sea, where they
were his usual dress and, according to a shipmate, were “welded to him”. It
337
. Sanitary napkins[sanitary towels], which in those days were made of heavy
cotton batting wrapped in fairly substantial gauze.
338
. The officially prescribed uniform.
was really wrong to wear them in harbour during “rounds”,339 but he was a
“barrack room lawyer”340 and had seen a notice on the board with a
typographical error which omitted the word “not”. Strictly speaking it gave
permission to wear whatever one liked in harbour during “rounds”, but this
was not its intention. The notice was read aloud when he was brought to task
and he was finally charged with “serious quibbling” and was punished.(HMC
92-20, TTC p. 2)
The other naval Telegraphist was rescued from an accident at sea, and
taken aboard a naval vessel not his own. He had only the clothes he had been
rescued in, and these had been cut off him. He was also barefoot, as he had
kicked his seaboots off. Nonetheless, he was logged almost daily for “being
out of the rig of the day” and was put on staff and forced to keep
watches.(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 2)
One escort sailor said most days one did not wash at all, and one never
takes one‟s clothes off at sea -- or one‟s lifebelt. There was a punishment for
being caught without either. When the ship went to sea, you never took your
clothes off until you were back in harbour. A ship‟s company, excluding
officers, comprised about 600 men, all of whom used one bathroom with eight
washbasins and three showers, which was open daily for half an hour in the
morning and one hour in the evening. During that period one not only had to
make one‟s ablutions, but collect enough water in a bucket to do one‟s
dhobying341 as well. One did use to change clothes, of course, in a rush, but
had immediately to get one‟s clean clothes on. “But you don‟t undress. You
339
. An official inspection.
. Considering the implications of the terms “barrack room lawyer” and “sea
lawyer”, both of which almost synonymous terms refer to someone who bends the rules by
interpreting them literally, it is ironic that the informant subsequently read law at King‟s
College, London.
341
. A term for personal hand laundry, used by most British seafarers and perhaps
traceable to an Asian origin from the Victorian period of the British Empire.
340
stink.” It really annoys this informant “when you see „Jolly Jack‟342 ashore all
lookin‟ clean and smart....” When he was in a flagship cruiser, they had
“Sunday Divisions” [an inspection] and got dressed up smartly. “And there
were six of us who washed and shaved in a cup o‟ tea[teacup]. Now, that is
the honest-to-God truth!” What annoys him is that bathrooms were never
open at sea. Officers could have a “slipper bath” each, if they wished, but 600
men shared those eight basins and three showers.(HMC 92-64, TTC p. 6)
On destroyers, fresh water was extracted from sea water, but nearly all
of it was used for the boilers and they chained up the pumps so no water was
available outside set times, as previously stated. Stokers were lucky; they
were where the water was produced and could get plenty straight out of the
evaporator.(HMC 92-64, TTC p. 6) Stokers‟ messdecks were always the cleanest
in the ship. They took pride in being clean as they had dirtiest job. “No! It
goes back further than that. When Stokers were hand-stokers it was the
hardest work in the ship. And it rubbed off on these blokes and they kept their
messes clean, whereas the communication, er, wireless and signals, we were
always the scruffy sods -- ‟cause we were too flippin‟ idle.” As a Telegraphist,
he joined the Navy at nineteen, having been an apprentice electrician who had
worked on building sites and was slim and reasonably fit. He then spent
thirty-five weeks sitting on stools learning radio theory and Morse. He
immediately went fat from lack of exercise and has never lost that fat.(HMC 9265, TTC p. 5)
When R.A. Simpson, now a Captain, was an Apprentice, a tramp
carried two ten-ton water tanks for all purposes, operated with a hand-pump.
He had to climb inside and clean them. During the war there was no such
thing as hot running water, either. If you came off the afternoon watch -- the
342
. “Jolly Jack Tar”, a term accepted throughout the United Kingdom as a nickname
for the Royal Navy sailor.
12-4, and wanted a wash, you would get a bucket -- or two, if you were lucky.
Then you had to go to the Engine Room and put them under the condenser,
which spit hot water. It took half an hour to get a bucketful. Then you had to
climb back up to your quarters to wash. As a Cadet, Capt. Simpson had a
cabin just behind the Engine Room skylight. He put his bucket on the
skylight, and when he came off watch, the bucket had disappeared.(HMC 92-5,
TTC p. 7)
There were preventative measures for this sort of thing, however.
The average seaman was neat and workmanlike, although there were some bad
ones. On old ships, right through the war, there were no showers. There was,
however, a keg with a steam pipe in it to boil workclothes before scrubbing
them on a bench. One brought (or bought from the slop chest)343 a two-and-ahalf-gallon bucket which was used for washing, bathing, and laundry. Each
had the owner‟s name on it; some got stolen; one fellow punched a hole in the
bottom of his and bought a cork which he carried in his pocket when working
or sleeping, so he would not lose his bucket by theft.(HMC 90-65, TTC p. 6)
The custom of thus washing one‟s clothing resulted in one seaman‟s
not realising his vessel was under attack.
We were on the way up from Aruba and I had finished all
my work as the Gunners‟ Messboy, and I was down below
reading a book in my bunk. I heard a lot of noise. In those
days we use to wash our clothes by putting a bucket full of
water on the end of a steam line and turning on the steam and it
-- the bucket would bounce around on these concrete decks and
brrr-bang, bang, rattle, rattle, and er, my room was right next to
that laundry room where the crew used to wash their clothes.
God-damn, that [thing] is making an awful lot of noise in there.
And I went in to turn down the steam and there was nothing
there. And as I turned around to go back into my fo‟c‟sle, my
cabin, a shell went right through the forward end of the
alleyway, down by the entrance to the engine room near the
[fiddley.] And I said, „gee, something must have happened in
the engine room.‟ And then I remembered there was a war
on.344
343
. The slop chest is a shipboard canteen from which the basic necessities as well as
a few luxuries such as tobacco and sweets may be purchased, usually by a chit which is drawn
against the purchaser‟s accrued wages when the ship pays off.
344
. TimeWatch script, 16-17.
It was not uncommon for the Engine Room crew to devise
“contraptions” to be used as washing machines for dirty laundry. These
usually consisted of a metal drum or bucket with some sort of plunger or
agitator connected to the ship‟s machinery in such a way that it moved up and
down like a churn. Often the Engine Room, because of its warmth, was also
strung with lines for drying clothing as well. Sometimes the “black gang”
extracted payment for doing others‟ laundry either in hard cash or in small
items from the ship‟s slop chest, such as tobacco, cigarettes, or sweets. Doyle
Bales described in detail how such a laundry was constructed aboard the
Francis Asbury, incorporating the idling link, and asserted that the “black
gang” had extracted a quarter [twenty-five cents] from the Deck Crew to do
their washing.(HMC 90-35, TTC p. 1) Capt. Steve Browne said one of the biggest
forms of recreation was “trying to invent ways of washing clothes without a
washing machine”. He then described a washing machine built on a walking
beam by an ex-policeman from Jackson, Mississippi, who washed clothes for a
small fee and made a deal with the Captain to keep the ship supplied with
fresh linen. Such deals only held good whilst underway, though -- in port, they
could forget it, as he was on the town.(HMC 90-50, TTC p. 2) Such deals were
not limited to North American seamen. Pete Rogers, a Liverpool native, did
“dhobying”345 for the officers with the steam from the Engine Room, in return
for which they bought items for him when ashore.(HMC 92-49, TTC p. 3)
Sporadically one encountered tales of using the vessel‟s “prop wash”
for similar purposes, especially for heavily begrimed dungarees or other such
sturdy items. The clothing in question was trailed behind the ship on a line in
such a way that it was agitated, churned and beaten by the action of the screw.
A few anecdotes have filtered down to us of misfortunes resulting from such
actions, usually the loss or destruction of the garments so handled. These
345
. The reader is reminded that “dhobying” is a British seaman's term for hand
laundry.
mishaps came about because the men involved did not completely understand
the power of the agitated water and either made the line too short or left the
clothing there too long. In consequence the garments were destroyed.
Sometimes the person would haul in the line to discover only a ragged
waistband where there had been a pair of denim trousers. Once in a while,
having left the dungarees for an extended period, such as overnight, on the
discovery that they had disappeared completely, the victim would complain
either that they had been stolen by other crew members or eaten by fish.346
Such allegations inevitably generated a harvest of mirth amongst the victim‟s
shipmates at the time and an amusing memory which was recounted with
relish in later days.347 Pat Brinkley described “washing machines” constructed
on ships -- deck construction. Clothes were thrown overboard tied in a bundle
and allowed to spin. One has to know when to pull them back in or they will
be ruined; that is how Brinkley lost his first pair of dungarees.(HMC 90-43, TTC
p. 2)
Before these shipboard and convoy circumstances could be
experienced, however, one must first go to sea. Chapter Four tells why men
went to sea, continued at sea, and left the sea, as well as some of their major
impressions of convoys, the war, and life at sea.
346
. The turbulence behind a ship is great, especially that of a tug. One Messboy left
his dungarees in this prop wash overnight on a 100-foot long line. In the morning there was
nothing left but a waistband and the poor victim exclaimed, “Look what the fish done to ‟em!”
Had he only left them there for about twenty minutes, they would have been fine.(HMC 90-35,
TTC p. 1)
347
. These stories of ignorance and gullibility are paralleled by the “fools‟ errands”
cited in Chapter Six.
CHAPTER 4
GOING TO SEA, LIFE AT SEA, AND LEAVING THE SEA:
AN ANALYTICAL COMMENTARY
A. REASONS FOR GOING TO SEA
There have been merchant mariners since the first trading vessel large
enough to be called “ship” was launched, but it is often difficult for those
without seafaring connections to comprehend the reasons which draw an
individual to a seafaring vocation or the possible reasons for leaving such a
career, once it has been chosen. As one might suspect, there were both
similarities and differences between the North American and the British
fieldwork samples in this respect, and the fact that it was wartime presented
additional complications. John Gorley Bunker noted two truisms regarding the
Merchant Service in wartime: “People who had never seen a ship could be
trained to make the pieces with which to build one, but once the ship was in
the water, loaded with ten thousand tons of cargo, and ordered half around the
world, it took men with experience to get her there.” “Without crews, the
ships would have been absolutely useless.”348 It was the importance of
considerations such as these which made this chapter and its contents crucial.
In Shipping Out five reasons were given by contemporary American
seamen for preferring to sail deep-sea. These were: a chance to understand
and appreciate other cultures, time to do a great deal of thinking, “one can
really get away from everything”, superior wages, and better companionship in
348
. John Gorley Bunker, Liberty Ships: The Ugly Ducklings of World War II (Salem
NH: Ayer Company, Publishers, Inc., rpt. ed. 1988, c 1972), 19. Despite the fact that the latter
quote is almost crass in its transparency, I felt it should be emphasised in this context.
foreign ports.349 Both the British and the North Americans interviewed for this
study substantially echoed these reasons.
Fieldwork disclosed that many seamen I interviewed had made their
first voyages well before the war, and a sizeable number had taken this career
option at quite an early age.350 British seamen tended most frequently to have
taken up seafaring in pursuit of a familial tradition or to have been
apprenticed, sometimes from orphanages, whereas North Americans were
rather more likely to have been influenced by the aura of romance and
adventure which has always surrounded the occupation, whether in literature
or in the stories of friends and neighbours who were already “shipping out”.351
These leanings were trends, however, not inevitabilities. In consequence of
the great range of motivating influences discovered by the fieldwork, it was
decided that one avenue of enquiry should investigate the reasons impelling
men to adopt the sea as a career and that similar enquiry should be made into
their reasons for leaving the occupation. The area between the two within this
chapter is dedicated to the examination of major impressions of shipboard life,
convoys, and/or the war in general, with special attention to the preference for
certain “watches” or work hours.
Why do men become seafarers? “Gone are the days of adventure,
when young boys ran away to sea for the thrill of it.”352 This assertion
appeared in a sociological study of modern American merchant mariners in
1973, but its accuracy is debatable relative to the testimonies of those who
went to sea immediately before and during the Second World War. A goodly
number cited that very thrill of adventure as their reason for shipping out
349
. Sherar, 7.
. The personal testimonies of military personnel have been excluded from this
chapter for reasons of space. For similar reasons few Radio/Wireless Operators have been
cited. The statements of all, however, will be found in the tape-recorded materials of the
Halley Maritime Collection.
351
. A term synonymous with “going to sea” and commonly used in that context.
352
. Sherar, 14.
350
initially, and at least two specifically said they had “run away to sea” as a
result. It is, of course, possible that they soon became disenchanted with their
initial rosy view of the seafarer‟s life, but the vast majority interviewed seem
to have retained a youthful outlook and a sense of adventure well into maturity
and even advanced age. It may, indeed, be this aspect of the seaman‟s general
character which causes him in his advanced years to become such a romantic
figure in the eyes of those, usually much younger, who listen raptly to his tales
of life at sea, whether those tales be factual or fictive. Dr. Ronald Hope,
Director of the Marine Society, begins his book, The Merchant Navy, with the
suggestion that the average British seaman is motivated by a desire “to see
strange places and new things” and by a “yearning for high adventure.”353
Again, as regards the possibility of disenchantment, Hope notes:
However old and however experienced the seafarer, the land
that rises above the horizon retains its magic; and the moods of
the sea and the climates of the world are such that there is
always something to look forward to even on those occasions
when the present is not immediately enjoyable.354
He does concede that “life in the Merchant Navy is not all honey”, but
also indicates that the man who regrets his time at sea in the Merchant Navy is
rare.355 These assertions were confirmed by a number of respondents, one of
whom, an Englishman, said that life at sea was very good, he enjoyed it very
much indeed, and would not have changed his life for anything.(HMC 92-67,
TTC p. 2)
A Newfoundlander simply said, “The sea was always my first love,
really.”(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 2)
Apropos North American seafarers during the period under
investigation, Bunker observes:
Wartime merchant seamen came from all parts of the
United States and from some Allied nations. Boys too young to
353
. Ronald Hope, The Merchant Navy (London: Stanford Maritime, 1980), 7.
. Hope, 33.
355
. Hope, 33.
354
be drafted joined the merchant marine. Men too old for the
draft, or who for one reason or another were not accepted by the
armed forces, found in the merchant marine an opportunity to
take an active part in the war effort.
Some few men went to sea for what in those days was good
pay and some did so to escape military service, but these were
not the overriding attractions for most wartime volunteers. A
man could make good pay in shipyards and war plants without
any of the risks of seafaring. And as for escaping the draft,
many thousands of young men who were attracted to sea by
wartime recruiting posters had little if any concept of what life
in the merchant marine was like -- or what pay or danger was
involved.356
The mercantile marine demands an odd mixture of qualities in its
adherents. Most mariners must first and foremost have independence, yet
interdependence at sea is absolutely essential for survival. Many seafarers are
loners, who might be described as “odd men out” among their contemporaries
ashore, yet they seem to share between themselves, at least to some degree, the
same eccentricities. It is often difficult, from childhood, for them to integrate
fully into shoreside society, yet they live and work together for extended
periods in close proximity, both physical and social, with few if any occasions
of major discord except in port, and that usually occasioned by overindulgence
in drink.
Much of this overall shipboard harmony results from the fact that the
sea places constant demands on the attention and respect of those who sail
upon her, but the situation ashore is altogether different. A shore job indeed
may have moments when the individual's immediate attention is vital, but
these are interspersed with long periods of leisure, far less structured than
those aboard. At sea one cannot stroll in the park during lunchtime, take in a
show with a date in the evening, or spend “coffee-break” time with all one‟s
workmates.357 Even the available food, although it may be plentiful, has limits
356
. Bunker, Liberty, 19-20.
. “One cannot walk down to the corner bar for a drink, or walk in the woods, or
shop at the local stores.”(Sherar, 9).
357
to its variety, a seeming inconsistency when one considers the taste for things
exotic and unfamiliar with which the average seafarer appears imbued.
Workers ashore must interact with a much wider spectrum of people on
a regular basis and make far more personal decisions in a given space of time
than seamen. Aboard ship, food and living space are provided and
entertainment, even with today‟s technological advances, is limited. The
seafarer is aware of the company available and may mingle sociably or not as
fancy dictates. Ashore one chooses companions and recreational pursuits as
well as food and lodging from a far greater selection and the necessity for such
apparently trivial decisions may prove extremely irritating to the sort of person
fitted to the seafaring life, especially when such decisions are required
repeatedly over lengthy periods of time. Once the novelty of being ashore has
worn off, the seaman without a ship can be more susceptible both to
temptations and to his own frailties than the landsman who habitually deals
with such things on a daily basis.
These annoyances can occasionally chafe the susceptible into domestic
violence when there is no regular escape to the routine of the workplace. Like
those made redundant in large numbers with the demise of such large-scale
shoreside industries as mining, the land-bound sailor finds himself shortertempered than he is at sea after only a short term of leave. Not only has his
income and thus the ability to support his dependants been suspended, but he
has also lost the security of his familiar working and living environment, in
which minor decisions are few and he can be more single-minded. Even when
the period of inactivity is limited, things can become distinctly unpleasant.
Becker has noted in this regard:
Most provisional roles conferred by society -- like that of
the student or conscripted soldier, for example -- include some
kind of terminal ceremony to mark the individual‟s movement
back out of the role once its temporary advantages have been
exhausted. But the roles allotted to the deviant seldom make
allowance for this type of passage.
And as a result, the deviant often returns home with no
proper license to resume a normal life in the community.
Nothing has happened to cancel out the stigmas imposed upon
him by earlier commitment ceremonies; from a formal point of
view, the original verdict or diagnosis is still in effect. It should
not be surprising, then, that the members of the community
seem reluctant to accept the returning deviant on an entirely
equal footing. In a very real sense, they do not know who he
is.358
Merchant shipping during the Second World War, of course, differed
from peacetime commerce in a number of ways which will become apparent in
the development of this work, but Chapter Six in particular will demonstrate
the applicability of Becker‟s concept of “deviance” as “failure to obey group
rules”359 to this occupation, one of whose most significant features is enforced
isolation from the larger portion of society for extended periods of time.
Becker remarks that: “...agencies of control provide aid and shelter to
a large number of deviant persons, sometimes enhancing their survival chances
in the world as a whole ... gather marginal people into tightly segregated
groups, give them an opportunity to teach one another the skills and attitudes
of a deviant career, and often provoke them into employing these skills by
reinforcing their sense of alienation from the rest of society. ...this process is
found not only in the institutions which actually confine the deviant, but
throughout the general community as well.”360 If we concede that a shipboard
apprenticeship or cadetship programme as well as the confines of a nautical
academy or an orphanage can be designated an “agency of control”, then the
perception of seafaring as a marginal or “deviant” occupation becomes all the
more readily acceptable, since, although most of these institutions were
developed to provide young men with limited prospects an opportunity for
economic advancement and thus for social acceptability, “[i]t is by now a
358
. Becker (1964), 16-17.
. (i.e., norms), Becker (1963), 7-8.
360
. Becker (1964), 16.
359
thoroughly familiar argument that many of the institutions built to inhibit
deviation actually operate in such a way as to perpetuate it.”361 Perhaps even
the tutelage of a promising but “green” young first-tripper by an old Bosun,
skilled in seamanship, might fall under such a heading. The system of taking
apprentices to sea in training to become ratings or officers certainly would do
so. It began in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and those accepted
into such training schemes were often orphans or paupers on the parish roles.
The repute of the system at that time was that it constituted virtual slavery and
was continued as a ready means of disposing of superfluous and unwanted
male children at a fairly early age.362
The first orphanage sailor interviewed during the fieldwork actually
went to sea before the war, in December 1938, from an institution which
specialised in sending boys either to the hotel industry as bellboys or to sea as
Apprentices.363 He had no choice but was told to sign various documents,
given a “medical” [US = “physical”], eyesight test, and so on, and then sent to
Cardiff docks to join a tramp steamer. He had signed indentures at the
“princely sum” of sixty pounds for four years! This worked out to about five
shillings a week; it was cheap hard labour in return for training. To sit the
upgrading exams one must have three years and six months sea time in the
space of four years. This lad was fifteen when he first went to sea and had
been at sea for nine months when the war broke out; already on his second
voyage, he was not yet sixteen.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 1) The next orphanage
sailor interviewed may have been in the same institution, as he said he had
been sent to sea from a National Children‟s Home in Penarth, which is “near
Cardiff”. It was all male and set up like a nautical school, with uniforms and a
band. He was taken to Cardiff docks by the person in charge of the Home.
361
. Becker (1964), 15.
. Hope, 17.
363
. As has been noted, all ranks and ratings throughout this work will have their
initial letters capitalised in order to make a distinction and avoid confusion.
362
There was an ordinary ladder balanced against the side of the
ship, up which he had to carry his “donkey‟s breakfast” -- a
palliasse of straw for his bed. That ship also required each
crewman to provide his own eating utensils, and soap for
washing both his person and his clothes. As a “Boy”,364 he was
subordinate to the Cook, but fortunately this Cook was a good
man, who treated him well. He decided not to stay in
Catering,365 as the Deck Department interested him, and the
Captain was agreeable. As a Boy, he was not housed in the
forecastle with the rest of the crew, but had his own room
amidships like a Cadet and could do things such as helping the
officers with various jobs. Essentially the Captain had offered
him the chance to become a Cadet, but he wanted to be free, so
he found himself another ship. He wanted to be a sailor, but
had to start as an Ordinary Seaman. It was probably fortunate
that he left, as the ship was sunk by the Graf Spee. He always
regretted that, and the loss of her kindly Captain, but he himself
had escaped.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 7)
Another lad‟s parents died in 1932, and he was sent for four years to an
orphanage where he was trained for the sea. The orphanage was supported by
wealthy merchants who dealt with the shipping companies, and each section of
the institution wore the “colours” of a particular sponsor. This man‟s brother,
with whom he now shares a home, went to sea with him as a Bellboy, but only
did three or four return[round] trips to New York before health problems
forced his retirement.(HMC 92-45, TTC p. 2 and 5)
A fourth orphan went to sea as a Cabin Boy in 1940 when he
was fifteen years and five months old. He had been to the
orphans‟ training school for (primarily) Catering ratings aboard
the old sailing ship Vindicatrix in Sharpness, Gloucestershire,366
which only trained “Boys”. He does not know if the sea was a
family tradition, as he was an orphan. He only stayed in the
Catering Department until December of 1941, and then went to
the Deck Department as an Ordinary Seaman and sailed Deck
until retiring as a Petty Officer Quartermaster in 1972 after
thirty-two years of seafaring. The Vindicatrix was well run,
with a very disciplined regime, even though in the early part of
the war merchant seamen did not come under the Essential
Works Order and were entirely civilians. Later the Ministry of
War Transport brought them under this Order. Thenceforth,
once in the Merchant Navy, if you left voluntarily, were
364
. “Boy”, as in Cabin Boy, Bellboy, Galley Boy, Messboy is part of an actual job
description, and not simply an indication of youth, although in the earliest days the tender age
of most people in these positions gave the job its title. Today, however, a “Boy” may, in fact,
be almost superannuated. It is for this reason that I have chosen to use upper case letters to
distinguish such ratings and ranks.
365
. As has been previously mentioned, the names of the three shipboard
Departments -- Deck, Engine, and Stewards‟ (or Catering) -- will be capitalised throughout
this work to provide distinction and avoid confusion.
366
. It had originally been the Gravesend Sea School in the Thames.
discharged for misbehaviour, or were no longer required in the
Merchant Navy, you would automatically be called up for
military service upon coming ashore. Under the Essential
Works Order you were under the direct control of the Ministry
of War Transport, basically organised by the Merchant Navy
Pool itself. This informant stayed at sea after the war because,
as an orphan, he had no home, he was not trained for any other
job, and it suited him. “The fact [is?] that I was a trained
seaman, and the fact is that I was much of a lone wanderer. I
was happy with the seafarin‟ life; I just more or less decided to
carry on.” By that time he was an AB367 and the sea had
become his home.(HMC 92-50, TTC p. 1 and 7)
It appears that fifteen, going on sixteen, was the age at which orphans
were usually sent to sea, because the last of this group to be interviewed sailed
at that age as well. It was July 1942 and he sailed as a Deck Boy, staying in
the Deck Department throughout his seafaring career. Continuing at sea for a
time after the war, he then came ashore and went into the shipyards as Rigger
and Quartermaster for a time, before returning to sea. While not actively
sailing during the majority of his working life, he remained associated with the
sea throughout. Before shipping out the first time, he attended the Navy
League School in Wallasey, a shore establishment which was the equivalent of
the training ship, Indefatigable. Originally from the Liverpool area, he came
to the Navy League from a boarding school in Lancaster as his mother had
died and his sister could not cope with the family. There was no alternative
for the lad, who was sent to sea as an orphan. He believed that, just prior to
the war, most first-trippers came from the navy schools rather than straight off
the streets. It was a better, more modern system to train them first.
“I met these young fellas, they used to -- very -- whatchacall
-- too sensitive and ... homesick, aren‟t they? But comin‟ out of
the trainin‟ school, you‟re hardened, aren‟t you, really, to
what‟s gonna happen?” Those who went to sea without the
benefit of a training school often had an uncle or a father to
assist them. “Families stuck together.” But he does not believe
the “family way” superior to training school, because the school
taught its trainees all the necessary signals, etc. In convoy an
367
. As has been previously noted, the term “AB” is universally accepted in nautical
parlance to refer to an Able (or Able-Bodied) Seaman and will be so used throughout this
work.
untrained Deck Boy was just a “gopher”,368 but a school-trained
lad could be used on the bridge, be more useful, more like a
Cadet or an Apprentice. On his very first trip, the respondent
actually was a Cadet. In convoy everything was controlled by
signals from the commodore ship and he had been trained to
read the international flag code. An ordinary AB could not
have done it but he had been taught.
Some from his school went into the Royal Navy. He
intended at first to do so himself, but chose the Merchant Navy
in preference halfway through as they were better paid and
“more colourful”. The Royal Navy was too strict, as well. He
now regrets his choice as Royal Navy retirees receive a pension
and often left the service with a trade. They used to put Royal
Navy seamen into the Customs Service when they retired. One
of his neighbours had the same school-leaving qualifications,
but joined the Royal Navy, finished as a Chief Petty Officer,
and became a high officer in Customs. He was very
comfortable in his old age, having both a Navy pension and a
Customs pension. Asked why a man goes to sea, the
interviewee replied, “I think it‟s just to get away from
something, to be honest, goin‟ to sea." On looking back, he
believes it to be mostly escapism. If he had the opportunity, he
would do it again, but just for the comradeship and having a
good time -- adventure in foreign ports, and the like. He would
never have had an opportunity to travel otherwise, and
experience with languages and with handling foreign currencies
has been handy. Even now, when he goes on holiday with his
wife, he can speak a little Spanish, a little Portuguese.... He
was also taken under the wing of two separate Bosuns who
gave him the benefit of their years of experience in
seafaring.(HMC 92-57, TTC pp. 1-3)
There was more of a chance for an orphaned pauper to make a success
of himself in merchant shipping than in almost any other trade. Once he had
signed Ship‟s Articles on his first vessel, there was scarcely a limit as to how
high he might go by diligence and application. In those early days a ship‟s
Captain (Master), and sometimes the Mate (Chief Officer) as well, had usually
the prospect of sharing in the ownership of at least a portion of the cargo if not
of the vessel herself, so the opportunity was available of eventually retiring
from the sea as a reputable shipowner with a steady stream of small profits
which functioned as a pension in his later years. Despite all this, we are told:
No young person runs away to sea now; but when anyone joins
the modern Merchant Navy he or she does not require...luck or
genius to make good. Down the centuries the sea has not
368
. “Gopher” is a slang term for a general dogsbody, derived from the fact that s/he
must repeatedly “gopher” = “go for” various articles, errands, etc.
changed. The conditions of the seafarer‟s life and his
opportunities for advancement, on the other hand, have changed
beyond all recognition.369
At one time it was normal for those wishing to pursue a career
at sea, particularly as a deck officer, to embark upon nautical
training at an early age. This is no longer necessary, but in Hull
and London there are day secondary schools with a nautical
bias for boys who are ATTRACTED to such schooling.370
and again:
Any seafarer with ability and a willingness to work can go far,
far ahead. There is no bar to advancement in any branch of the
Merchant Navy.371
It is not entirely accurate to say that no one ran away to sea in the
period under discussion. One Norwegian lad ran away to sea in 1915, when he
was only fourteen, and eventually obtained his Master‟s papers under the aegis
of the U.S. Army Transport System.(HMC 90-55, TTC p. 1) A British youngster
of the same age, disenchanted with his wartime apprenticeship ashore, got a
job as a Deck Boy on a riverboat, where, while larking about with a pal on fire
watch, he saw a deep-sea rescue tug. On going aboard the following day and
asking for a job, he was told to get his gear, as she was sailing at noon on a
two-month run, towing “Mulberry Harbours”372 to Scotland for testing. He
went home, packed, and left a note -- and a distracted mother, who tried
everything to get him back, including the police, but to no avail. He joined the
Merchant Navy Pool373 the following year, launching a career at sea which
lasted off and on until well after the war‟s end and his subsequent
marriage.(HMC 92-44, TTC p. 1)
The romantic aspect of seafaring might strike a man at any time and for
the oddest of reasons. Thomas Goodyear, now a retired Master, began his
369
. Hope, 27.
. Hope, 72. Emphasis his.
371
. Hope, 64.
372
. Concrete caissons, see Glossary in Chapter Eight.
373
. The Pool was the Ministry of War Transport‟s method of assigning seamen to
vessels. In the U.S., the War Shipping Administration simply utilised the trade unions‟ hiring
systems which were already in operation. The American system was universally known as
shipping or sailing “out of the halls”.
370
career in sailing vessels around the Newfoundland Coast, and later joined the
Fort Amherst. After a few months sailing, they met the Queen of Bermuda in
New York. She was the biggest thing Goodyear had ever seen and classy -the crew all wore uniforms. He went aboard and from her bridge could look
down into the funnel of the Fort Amherst. On the same day the Queen Mary
came in two piers further on and from her bridge, you could look down the
funnel of the Queen of Bermuda. It was this ever-expanding perspective and
the accompanying impression of magnificence that influenced him to further
his own career at sea, during which he later sailed on the Queen of Bermuda
herself.(HMC 91-4, TTC pp. 2-3)
Before proceeding to further exempla from the fieldwork, a quick
survey of general data is advisable. Those interviewed were roughly divisible
into two basic groups. The first consisted of men who had been interested in
merchant shipping from an early age; many of these began their careers well
prior to their countries‟ involvement in World War II. The second was made
up of men who would probably not have gone to sea but for the war. A large
number of the former group intended from the outset to become ship‟s officers
and began by attending maritime academies or nautical schools, by entering
cadetship or apprenticeship programmes run by shipping companies374, or by a
combination of the two. A significant proportion of such men continued their
seafaring careers after the war, many until they reached retirement age. A
sizeable number, however, concluded their active sailing careers relatively
early, but took up posts ashore in fields closely allied to merchant shipping,
thus avoiding complete dissociation from their original objectives.
374
. Although virtually synonymous in North America, “Cadet” and “Apprentice”
(and “Midshipman”) were distinct in the United Kingdom, despite having almost identical
duties. British Cadets signed on ships‟ Articles as crew members and sometimes had to pay a
fee for their training, while Apprentices were indentured to the shipping company for a
specified period and were waged, though barely so, and Midshipmen were always in some way
connected to the military. Both Deck Officers and Engineers could be trained as Cadets in
North America, while in Great Britain the latter most often took their apprenticeship and
training ashore. Most, if not all, U.S. Cadets were trained in maritime academies or
“schoolships” before actively going to sea.
Capt. W. L. Ashton, an Englishman, went to sea 7 January 1931, as a
sixteen-year-old Cadet. Under the British system, an Apprentice is indentured,
while a Cadet signs on and pays a premium of fifty pounds in case he runs
away or misbehaves. On reaching the age of twenty or so, a Cadet can take a
short course at a Nautical School and get a Second Mate‟s ticket. If he returns
to the firm and they have an opening, he can then have a Third Officer‟s job.
Capt. Harold Skelly, a little older than Capt. Ashton, had to sail as
Quartermaster for two or three years after getting his ticket before a Fourth
Officer‟s job was available and it took him nearly eight years in one ship to
upgrade through Third to Second Mate. Capt. Ashton was lucky and
immediately got a job as a Third. You generally spent about two years on one
ship and then were promoted to a bigger and better one.(HMC 92-36, TTC p. 1)
An Apprentice or Cadet was like one of the crew, but with special
status, in that he had his own cabin, which was unheard of for a rating in those
days. He was not allowed into the officers‟ accommodation except to clean or
do other work, even though he was technically an apprentice officer.
Apprentices had also to pass a minor examination (“kid stuff”) annually to
prove they were still on the ship and working. On the whole, the training was
good. Capt. R.A. Simpson learnt the business that way. He did not learn
much academically, but received good training in seamanship.(HMC 92-5, TTC
p. 1)
“Fish” Ramsey, an American who retired as a Chief Engineer, said that
in those days, one first signed on as a Wiper, Ordinary Seaman, or Messboy,375
but subsequently was called a “Cadet” if one had a sponsor within the
company as he did. He was twenty or twenty-one at the time and was already
licensed by the time the United States entered the war, having obtained his
375
. These are the lowest ratings in Engine, Deck, and Stewards‟/Catering
Departments respectively. In the United Kingdom the terms may differ slightly.
ticket in 1939. He did not get his Chief Engineer‟s licence until 1952, well
after the war, but held a First Assistant‟s certificate during the hostilities. The
seafaring trade was in his family; his father had worked on sailing vessels and
as a docker in Savannah, Georgia, and his nephew presently works on the
docks.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 1 and p. 3)
Clinton Johnson attended Officer Candidate School in
Alameda, California, where there was one school for the basic
Third Assistant Engineer‟s licence, with a four-month-long
course and one of thirty days to upgrade further. The Maritime
Administration (and United States Maritime Service) ran these
schools simultaneously, but completely separately from the
California Maritime Academy (California Nautical School) at
that time. CMA (CNS) accepted students who had never before
been to sea. The course originally took four years, and was
then cut to three, but some people got by with even shorter
periods of study during the war, as the need for ships‟ personnel
was great. OCS was a four-month course which counted as
“sea time”. Before the war it was necessary to put in three
years of sea time to qualify for a licence, either as a
Fireman/Oiler for Engine crew or as an AB/Bosun for the Deck
Department. This was halved to eighteen months during the
war and the actual time ashore at OCS was counted as sea time
as well. Johnson‟s time was close and depended on whether
one counted it in days or in months. He was eighteen years old,
and the law said one must be nineteen to hold a licence. The
recruiting station in Los Angeles said he was too young, but his
birthday, which was also the day of graduation, was 15 January,
so he squeaked by. There was no law that said you could not
go to the school before you were nineteen. Many of his
classmates were much older, of course, still the classroom part
“was a snap for a kid who still knew how to study”. There were
crash courses in subjects such as mathematics. Students at the
school only had to stand duty every four days, so he brought his
car up from Los Angeles with special “C” stamps for gasoline;
it was very pleasurable. That year January 15th fell on a
Saturday, so he actually graduated and got his licence on the
Friday, while he was still under age. Still, he did not attempt to
use the licence until after his birthday, so he “slipped through
the cracks”.
A second Englishman, Capt. Derek Belk, went to sea at the age of
sixteen on 17 February 1944, but laughingly added, “I can‟t remember the time
of day.” He was an Apprentice for Blue Funnel (Alfred Holt Lines). The
Admiralty had given Blue Funnel permission to call their Apprentices
“Midshipmen” because of services rendered in World War I.(HMC 92-52, TTC p.
1)
Some British shipping companies, such as Shaw Savill, New Zealand
Shipping Company, and Blue Funnel, had special ships designated for training
Cadets. With other companies a beginner was pretty much on his own and
depended a great deal on the kindness of the other officers on the ship to help
him or not as they chose.(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 2) One lad rose from this latter
rather haphazard system to obtain his original Master‟s ticket in 1943, thence
sailing as Chief Officer and on an occasional voyage in the capacity of Master,
although not confirmed as such. He had a Master‟s ticket at the top of which it
said: “To which he appears to be entitled”, because early in the war he had lost
the original and asked for another. As the Customshouse in Liverpool had also
been bombed, few records survived, so they had to take his word for it.(HMC
92-51, TTC p. 1)
A dozen or so of those interviewed had shipped out before 1930 -- one
as early as 1902 -- and most of this earliest group were quite young when they
sailed initially, usually between the ages of fourteen and seventeen. One
admitted, “I was late going to sea”, as he did not launch his seafaring career
until the ripe old age of nineteen, when, in 1926, he became a Cadet with Elder
Dempster Lines. His father was from Bristol, where most people were, he
said, “either seafarers or pirates”, but there were no seafarers on his mother‟s
side, although he grew up in Devon where there is a lot of seafaring as well.
“It was a seafaring Captain who put me to sea in the first place down there.”
He was impelled to go to sea by the influence of attending the British Empire
Exhibition, which gave him an overwhelming interest in West Africa. Elder
Dempster traded around the West African coast. He had his Mate‟s ticket by
the time the war started, and acquired his Master‟s papers during the war,
although he did not yet have a command by its end.(HMC 92-68, TTC p. 1)
Most of the earliest group of interviewees to sail either shipped before
the mast and “came up through the hawsepipe”376 or went through a Cadetship
or Apprenticeship, but because their careers began so long before the outbreak
of the Second World War, nearly all were licensed by that time, and some even
had their own commands. One typical example, having gone to sea in 1925 as
a sixteen-year-old Apprentice, had his Master‟s certificate before the war
started in 1939 and was by then already a valuable member of the seafaring
profession with long experience of watch-keeping, knowing men who had
been at sea in World War I and could train others for the World War II
convoys.(HMC 92-38, TTC p. 1)
Just four of this segment of the men interviewed remained unlicensed;
all were in the Catering Department and only one reached the zenith of that
Department, eventually becoming Chief Steward.(HMC 92-3, TTC p. 1) Another
who had only sailed on coastal boats and cross-Channel ferries to Ireland took
a wartime job on a large liner which sailed independently, with passengers and
evacuees, from Liverpool to Capetown in ten and a half days non-stop full
speed. It was an experience for him, as he had never “done deep sea”377 before.
He really enjoyed it and thought deep sea sailing was marvellous. On the
return trip, which took eleven days, all crewmembers stood daily submarine
watches for an hour or so.(HMC 92-10, TTC p. 2)
Almost triple the total of the foregoing group belonged to a second prewar segment, beginning their seafaring careers during the Great Depression of
the 1930s. Those who started during the first half of that decade, like those
who began prior to 1930, were often licensed by the war‟s onset, but those
376
. This term is universally accepted amongst Anglophone seafarers to indicate a
person has risen through the ranks, upgrading from one of the lowest ratings to officer status -often to the highest rank in his Department, Chief Engineer or Master Mariner. Cadets,
Apprentices, Midshipmen, and those who have begun their training in Maritime Academies or
Nautical Colleges do not fall under this rubric.
377
. To “go” or “do” deep sea is one accepted term for sailing on trans-oceanic
voyages rather than coastally, on inland waterways, or on ferries with limited itineraries. An
alternative term, equally acceptable, is to “ship” or “go” foreign.
who set forth in the late 1930s or early 1940s found the rapid upgrading
processes during the war years worked greatly to their career advantage.378
Again, a large number of the British interviewees undertook cadetship and
apprenticeship programmes, while many from North America attended
maritime academies which provided similar training. Others, yet again like the
group which started before 1930, took the route “through the hawsepipe”.
North American seamen‟s unions also initiated upgrading programmes for
their members during this decade, but a man who attended one of the latter
said that during his four-month training course, the “union stiffs” rebelled
against the school‟s regimentation, going on strike before being eventually
forced to submit to the requisite discipline.(HMC 89-1, TTC p. 1)
An example of the difficulty of meeting entrance requirements for
North American, state-run academies is the story of a lad who applied for the
“schoolship” in Pennsylvania. There was a two-day written examination,
which was very competitive -- out of three hundred applicants they were
accepting only twenty-six. The letter he received with his marks regretfully
informed him he had ranked twenty-seventh. Shortly thereafter he was at
home between voyages379 and was asked if he were the kid who had applied for
the schoolship. The questioner was a new neighbour, a politician, who
asserted, “You don‟t get on the schoolship by taking an exam! Put your
application in next year and you‟re in!” But the following year, the
prospective Cadet was aboard a ship abroad when the time came to apply.
Furthermore it was too late, because by then he was too old. He eventually
attended Officer Candidate School at Fort Trumbull in New London,
Connecticut, instead, because many of his friends had already got their tickets
378
. One, who shipped as an Ordinary Seaman in 1937 at the age of sixteen, and now
has his twelfth issue Master‟s papers, said he felt no incentive to sit for a licence until the war
had actually started. This may not be entirely accurate, however, as he also states that he
attempted to gain entry to the Pennsylvania Maritime Academy before ever going to sea, since
he came from a merchant marine family.(HMC 90-67, TTC pp. 1 ff.)
379
. He had shipped as regular crew.
and the course there was shorter.(HMC 90-67, TTC pp. 3-5)380 A boy from
Virginia, given an appointment by his State Senator, went through the
Maritime Commission Cadetship programme, and was in Portugal in his first
licensed job aboard an American Export Lines passenger ship when the war
started, but was captured on his next voyage, and spent the rest of the war in a
Japanese prison camp.(HMC 90-58, TTC p. 1)
The British Cadetship programme, in contrast, was described thus by a
Newfoundlander:
Most officers got their papers because their parents had
enough money to pay for their training. You had to have four
years at sea before you could sit your Second Mate‟s
examinations. Your parents would pay the company to take
you to sea as a Cadet381 during which time you were trained by
the ship‟s officers, starting with deck work and gradually
progressing to work on the bridge while constantly studying
navigation, often facilitated by a correspondence course. After
four years you would go ashore to a nautical school for a few
months‟ final tuition before examinations. This was the normal
procedure. I was in a different situation as I had no one to
sponsor me. I went to sea before the mast and had to come up
through the hawsepipe.(HMC 91-5, TTC p. 4)
The overwhelming majority of the group who began their careers in the
interwar period started sailing before the age of seventeen, while several began
at twenty-one or over, and there is a distinct gap at the ages of nineteen and
twenty in which no representative was found. It is reasonable to assume,
therefore, that this group was composed primarily of youngsters just entering
the workforce, who perceived merchant shipping to present opportunities both
for travel and adventure and for a secure occupational future. Another rational
assumption is that the older segment had spent a considerable amount of time,
perhaps as much as two or three years, in pursuit of viable shoreside
380
. Like Clint Johnson‟s course in California, it was only four months.
. This differed from a British apprenticeship programme, in which the Apprentice
was directly indentured to the shipping company and did not sign on Ship‟s Articles, nor was
sponsorship required.
381
employment and only embraced seafaring as an alternative when other paths
remained closed.
One apparent exception had been an Engineering student at the
University of California, Los Angeles, for three years, and was in severe
financial difficulties when a Scottish-born professor who had been to sea in his
own youth convinced him to do likewise and helped him get his first maritime
job in 1935. By the time the States entered the war he was twenty-seven and
had his Second Assistant Engineer‟s ticket.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 1) It is
remarkable that this is the only man of the entire group interviewed who even
partially acquired a formal university-level academic education before going to
sea. Maritime Academies closely approached, but did not actually achieve,
this level of higher education.
One of the youngest and most typical of the Depression-era
ratings was regularly hitch-hiking to the harbour to look at the
ships by the time he was thirteen. Shortly thereafter, he and a
friend tried to stow away, but were caught by the Mate. At
about fourteen he signed on a coastal tanker. He worked ashore
for an interval because of labour disputes and strikes, but went
immediately back to sea at the outbreak of war. He said he had
no real desire to be a seaman, but wished to travel and had no
money, so he worked. At the beginning of the war, like many
others who sailed only “before the mast”382 he also worked at a
shipyard on a “shakedown”383 crew.(HMC 90-37, TTC p. 1)
Another man, who became a Master and then went into
maritime labour relations for the U.S. Government, started to
work “on anything that floats” in the summer of 1935, when he
was only fourteen. As he worked in and out of New York
Harbour, he saw the ship and steamboat traffic and “got the
urge.” Graduating from high school at sixteen, too young to
legally get seaman‟s papers, he obtained them as soon as he
turned seventeen, and became a “House Cadet” with United
States Lines. He was on the last American passenger vessel out
of Hamburg before the war started in 1939 and with rapid
advancement acquired his Master‟s papers by the age of twentythree.(HMC 90-59, TTC pp. 1-2)
382
. To “sail before the mast” means to ship as a rating rather than as an officer. The
term arises from the ratings‟ accommodations in sailing ships, which were in a communal
forecastle in the bow of the ship in front of (“before”) the mast.
383
. Before being released as seaworthy vessels by the shipyard which produced
them, ships were commonly sent on a “shakedown run” or trial, crewed by shipyard workers
qualified not only to sail them, but also to make any necessary modifications on the spot, or at
least to contrive some temporary expedient when necessity demanded.
One British respondent, who first went to sea in 1935 as an Ordinary
Seaman, had started an Apprenticeship, but failed the eyesight test and, since
his parents could not afford to send him to London, went into the shipping
office instead. One day, on the ferry home from work, he met an old pal who
had just left a ship and signed on in his place. He was fifteen and a half or
sixteen at that time.(TTC 92-34, TTC p. 1) Another, from an estate in a Liverpool
dock area where everyone went to sea, sailed first in 1933 at the age of sixteen.
It was only a seasonal job, but when he had his discharge papers, he applied
for and obtained a regular job as a Deck Boy. At the end of that job he paid
half a crown and got a proper discharge book. He went from one Department
to another, because “you took anything them days,” but preferred the Engine
Room.384 Many shipping lines were “family concerns” at that time and if you
had a job with the company you could obtain one for a relative.(HMC 92-49, TTC
pp. 1-2)
A third typical British seafarer went through a sea school first, in
Gravesend, outside London, in May of 1936. They had an old vessel in the
Thames, but it was a shore establishment. He had three months there under
the Shipping Federation, then sailed as Deck Boy. He was seventeen.(HMC 9256, TTC p. 1)
As a brief aside regarding the progress of Deck ratings, before the war,
one would normally do two trips (or twelve months) as a Deck Boy or
“Peggy”385 and then become an Ordinary Seaman. It required three years actual
sea time -- not just three years from the day you first signed on -- before your
discharge book would be stamped as AB. Some latitude was given after two
years; you could take the position of an Able Seaman, but were signed on
simply as “Sailor” There is no discharge of that name today. After about two
384
. As has been previously stated, the term Engine Room will be capitalised
throughout this work.
385
. Capt. A.G. Course‟s Dictionary of Nautical Terms (London: Arco Publications,
1962) on page 146 defines a peggy as an “apprentice, boy or ordinary seaman, who acts as
unpaid steward to the other apprentices or seamen. Weekly turns are usually taken in the case
of apprentices. He keeps the halfdeck ... clean and fetches the meals from the galley. In some
ships he also washed the dishes.”
years, you had proven your efficiency, but it was up to the Chief Officer or the
Captain. A ship was required by law to carry a specified number of ABs. If
they had this number, they could then carry three or four “Sailors” at the same
pay. The actual Deck complement consisted of Deck Boy/Peggy, Ordinary
Seaman, (there could be “Sailor”), and AB -- you could have four different
ratings on Deck. Later “Sailor” disappeared completely and they introduced
“EDH” -- Efficient Deck Hand. The rating was similar to “Sailor” -- you must
have two years sea time and were almost equivalent to an AB -- but for EDH
rating you had to sit a small test ashore, while “Sailor” rating was conferred
entirely aboard ship at the discretion of the officer in charge.(HMC 92-54, TTC p.
1)
Another respondent, discussing the “Sailor” rating during the war said that
there were no “Electric Deckhands” or DHUs386 at that time. A person
upgraded from Deck Boy to Ordinary Seaman to AB.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 1) A
third respondent added that you had to stay on your first ship for more than one
trip or forfeit the “passport” to another job. If only one voyage appeared in
your discharge book, prospective employers would assume you were not much
good and pass you by.(HMC 92-60, TTC p. 1)
A British rating clearly stated in an interview that the thing he liked
best about seafaring was job security during the Depression, and added that
some companies had House Pools.(HMC 92-49, TTC p. 4) Another further
discussed the seafarers' lot during the interwar years:
“The seaman was the lowest of the low. The sad part about it
was, also, unemployment at that time, in the ‟30s, was so
bad....” He was sailing out of London at the time -- Ashburton
House -- Missions to Seamen. Young boys would come round
saying which ships were in and what rates were needed to sign
on. Then all the men dashed down to show their discharge
books with only two or three discharges. Many from the
386
. “Electric Deckhand” was his humorous terminology for EDH, as explained
above, and DHU, stands for “Deck Hand Uncertificated”, the current usage equivalent to the
older “Ordinary Seaman” rating. However one still upgrades to “AB”, or Able(-Bodied)
Seaman.
Hebrides would take a chance and even stow away.387 Men
thirty or forty years old were taking jobs as Ordinary Seamen,
because jobs were so scarce. There were ships where even
skippers, men with Master‟s tickets, were taking AB‟s jobs, or
even Ordinaries‟ -- this is not an exaggeration. You could not
blame them, as they had to live. “That was the sad thing about
it, y‟know, that ABs, men of ability, y‟know, experienced ABs
doing Ordinary Seamen‟s jobs, or even Deck Boys‟ jobs.
Masters of a ship takin‟ an AB‟s job and prob‟ly taking orders
from a skipper or a Mate who hadn‟t got his qualifications. ...
On general terms it‟s like every job, whether you‟re ashore or
afloat, y‟know, and the echelon, y‟know, the more ambitious
they had to show results. Because let‟s face it, in those years,
I'm talkin‟ about pre-war, their job was as much, y‟know, at
risk, whether it was the skipper or the Mate, or the Second
Mate, because there were so many people waitin‟ to step into
their shoes.”(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 3)
An Irishman, who later settled in Liverpool, first went to sea because
fishing was the family trade and he was brought up on it. His wife‟s family
were all seafarers as well; the Welsh are all seafaring, too. He went foreigngoing388 in the „30s because fish were scarce and pay poor as a result. Other
deep-water sailors from his village suggested it to him. He had already done
his time as a Deck Boy, so he started as an Ordinary Seaman for four pounds
and a half-crown per month, no more than a bare living wage. He could just
manage on it. He did two trips as an Ordinary Seaman and got promoted, and
his pay rose to nine pounds a month. There was no place to go but up. An
AB‟s wages were nine pound, twelve and six,389 so as a Sailor he was only
twelve shillings sixpence short of an AB‟s pay. Like many others he was too
fond of “bending the elbow” to study for a higher ticket, so never rose higher
than Bosun.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 7)
Two of the men interviewed, who had sailed in the period just before
the war, gave fairly detailed descriptions of the British wartime employment
387
. A few further brief remarks about stowaways will be found in
Chapter Six.
388
. In British and Canadian maritime licensing terminology, Home Trades refers to
coastal waters and Foreign-Going to the broader seas and oceans of the world. “Foreigngoing” is thus here equivalent to “deep sea” or “deep water” and is commonly so used. (See
Glossary in Chapter Eight for full definition of British meanings of “Home Trades” and
“Foreign-Going”.)
389
. See below.
schemes known as T124 and T124X. The one who actually sailed under
T124X Articles said this system provided that merchant seafarers could remain
aboard their vessels, which had been commandeered as troopers, Armed
Merchant Cruisers, and the like. They were under naval discipline and had a
naval commander aboard, but continued to receive pay on a merchant
seaman‟s scale and could not be posted to any war zone other than the North
Atlantic.(HMC 91-2, TTC p. 1) The other respondent, who had been encouraged
to do likewise, but had demurred, added that his projected pay would have
been £9 12s 6d per month,390 plus a ten pound monthly war bonus. He would
have been in the Royal Navy and under Navy regulations, but under these
Articles would have the option of leaving after six months while others had to
remain for the duration of the war. The Royal Navy people coming aboard to
man the ship would be largely recruits, he said, and the reason Merchant Navy
personnel were so heartily encouraged to sign on T124X was to teach these
newcomers how to handle their highly sophisticated vessel.(HMC 91-4, TTC p. 3)
A unique case was that of a man who sailed before the mast in the
Merchant Service in 1937, then joined the Royal Navy Reserve and went to
Pompey for training in August of 1938. He had tried to join the Royal Navy
outright, but was refused because he was in a “reserve occupation”391 and so
had to join the RNR. An AB392 in the Merchant Navy at that time, he was only
classified as an “acting” AB at Pompey, although his discharge book had been
stamped by the Board of Trade. Three months later, however he got his first
stripe, became a three-badge Petty Officer, and continued to rise through
commissions as he got further Merchant Navy tickets -- Sub-Lieutenant,
390
. See immediately above, where this was the normal pay for an AB.
. This meant any job which later fell under the Essential Works Order. Men in
such employment could join the Reserve branches of the Armed Forces, but not the regular
services.
392
. Able or Able-Bodied Seaman. This is the highest of the regular ratings in the
Deck Department, equivalent to Oiler[U.S.]/Greaser[U.K.] in the Engine Department. Higher
grades would fall into the Petty Officer category, such as Quartermaster, Bosun, Donkeyman,
Deck Engineer, Pumpman, etc. and then go up to licensed or officers‟ ranks.
391
Lieutenant, etc. He got his Master‟s ticket in October of 1945 and came out of
the RNR in 1965 with its equivalent naval rank of LieutenantCommander.393(HMC 91-2, TTC p. 1)
The second major division of respondents, as has been implied, entered
the Merchant Service during the war. Their reasons for espousing this career
option vary and a fairly significant number left the sea immediately at the close
of the war or fairly soon afterward. The notion that the sea “gets into one‟s
blood” however, is borne out by the fact that many such veterans said they
would have preferred to continue seafaring, but their eventual decision to
“swallow the anchor”394 had resulted from consideration for wives and/or
families, who preferred them to remain ashore. Several stated that they would
have continued to ship out but for the fact that they were missing familial
contact with their children. This was especially true of those with young
families.395 A few of this second group sought advancement “through the
hawsepipe” and, like many others who achieved officer status, later became
Pilots, company Port Captains, Marine Superintendents or Marine Surveyors,
and other such maritime-connected, though shore-based elite.396
The majority of the apparently more transient “Hostilities Only”397
sailors emerged from the North American sampling,398 while those from Great
Britain and Northern Ireland appeared more commonly to have begun before
the war and remained in a sea-connected capacity until the age of retirement,
many following family traditions or considering the sea the only career in
393
. This is roughly equivalent to the system in the United States, where my
stepfather, who held a Chief Mate‟s ticket at the time, was afforded the titular rank of
Lieutenant Commander in the United States Naval Reserve. See Chapter Six, however with
regards to veteran‟s status.
394
. A common nautical idiom for leaving the sea permanently.
395
. See Section C of this Chapter, where the subject of leaving the sea is covered in
more detail.
396
. See previous footnote.
397
. This was a term used officially by the British Armed Forces to indicate, as might
be expected, those who had signed up for the duration of the war only.
398
. Nearly half the North American mainland sampling fell into this general group,
while a markedly smaller proportion of the British sample did so.
which they had any interest or prospects. This was most likely the result of
several determinant factors. A substantial majority of British respondents
were following a family calling, and the war was on their doorsteps. There
were other ways of assisting the war effort; shipyards were so severely
curtailed by the Blitz that few crews for newly-built vessels were immediately
required; and the conditions under which the Merchant Service worked and
suffered were more conspicuous to the general public in this smaller nation
which was almost entirely dependent on her Mercantile Marine for survival. A
goodly number seem to have accepted the sea as the only viable career option
they knew, despite other opportunities. It does not seem surprising that men of
this period were concerned with job security, having intimately experienced
the Depression years of the 1930s whilst approaching the start of their working
lives.
One, who was an eighteen-year-old American Deck Cadet in 19431944, described his preparation as “a good hard apprenticeship. There was
good training, but little other experience; that came after the war.” He was a
Cadet for the duration and still maintains contact with a fellow Cadet, who
suffered from chronic seasickness.399 Like many ostensibly retired ships‟
officers, he still maintains a valid Master‟s licence, although, at the age of
sixty-four, he is unlikely to use it further.(HMC 90-3, TTC p. 1)
A very few of those officers who came up “through the hawsepipe”
have been scornful of those who were more formally trained and the same
might be said in reverse, although Archie Green cites a woman seafarer who
shipped in the 1980s as having heard shipmates describe federal and state
maritime academies in the United States as “fink factories”.400
399
. Compare with other testimony in Section B of this chapter, regarding
seasickness.
400
. Fink is a word commonly used amongst North American labour activists,
especially trade unionists, to indicate those under the control of the company hierarchy, the
bosses.
“...[S]he contrasted academy graduates with officers who
had „come up through the hawse pipes‟ -- sailors advancing by
dint of hard work and acceptance of rank-and-file traditions.
Her vernacular phrase served to distinguish real salts from
imitations, those seasoned at sea from those trained in „fink
factories.‟ [She] touched on the long-standing distinctions
internalized by working people familiar with the labels old
hand/greenhorn or real McCoy/phony.”401
Reinforcing this assertion to some extent, an informant from Delaware
said that until the last ten or fifteen years, most officers came up through the
hawsepipe. The unions now provide good pensions, and opportunities for
officers are no longer as profitable as they once were. He said that just after
the war, a Weyerhauser Victory ship had a couple of “academy boys” (meaning
the United States Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, New York)
aboard. The Senior Master (Commodore) of the company was in charge of
that ship and found them inadequate to the job; after that voyage no further
academy boys were hired. The schoolships run by individual states turned out
good officers though.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 3)
During the war, attitudes such as these seem more frequently to have
attached to the “ninety-day wonders” turned out by rapidly-established training
schools, principally in North America. Such trainees were more often ratings
than officers, except in certain branches of the military Navy. One British
officer, nonetheless, disclosed that the navigational skills of newly qualified
Mates from the United States were often called into question and that it was
maintained they had so little experience that in convoy they often ordered the
wheelsman simply to “follow that [British] ship ahead”, as they were unsure of
where they were going or how to get there.402 This is not as blatant a case of
prejudice as it might seem, as, in September of 1943, a twenty-five-year-old
who was separated from his wife signed up for the Merchant Marine in Kansas
City, Missouri, and was sent to the Sheepshead Bay Training School in New
401
. Green, 165. The emphasis is Green‟s.
. Graeme Cubbin, personal conversation, Liverpool, 23/IV-1992, reinforced by
several later contacts who agreed.
402
York to train for the Engine Department. He was preparing to sit for his
licence as an Engineer when the war ended and he went into a shore job. On
signing off his first vessel, he discovered the skipper had only a riverboat
pilot‟s licence, and it was sheer luck that the Mate was sea-licensed ForeignGoing.(HMC 90-34, TTC p. 1) In New York City, when Hank Adams, a Bosun,
and his best mate were the only ones aboard who had ever been to sea before,
he picked his six ABs by simply designating the first six over the side from the
United States Maritime Service school in Sheepshead Bay, New York. He
then split up the crew to cast off, but one lad assigned to the stern went to the
bow, because the ship was being towed out stern first by the tugs and he had
gone to the “back end”.(HMC 90-15, TTC p. 1)
In Canada, and more especially in the United States, vast programmes
were underway during the Second World War to mass-produce standardised
vessels for countries whose mercantile marine resources had heretofore been
relatively limited and where they were also less necessary in peacetime, since
both nations had extensive farmlands and natural resources together with
highly developed industry, including shipbuilding itself. There was an almost
infinite demand for new crews to man these newly-built vessels, and the
USMS (United States Maritime Service) set up training schools at several
venues to “mass-produce” seafarers in the same way that Kaiser Permanente
and Bethlehem Steel were mass-producing their ships.403 In addition, there
were vast numbers of boys and men who wanted to assist the war effort, but
who found themselves ineligible to serve in the military forces for any of a
multitude of reasons, the most widespread of which was extreme youth.
Innumerable youngsters from inland areas lied about their ages or obtained
falsified papers in order to enter the less punctilious merchant marine when
403
. The most prominent USMS recruitment and training schools were on Catalina
Island off the California coast and in Sheepshead Bay in New York Harbour, but there were a
number of others.
they found they could not deceive the recruitment and conscription officers of
the Armed Forces.404 Other reasons for Armed Forces ineligibility might be
physical handicaps, such as vision or hearing defects, lost limbs, and the like,
or advanced age. Of course convicted felons were also ineligible to join the
Armed Services, but the percentage of these “moral defectives” who signed on
merchant ships as an alternative contribution to the war effort was minuscule
compared to those with clean records who were eager and ready to serve their
country regardless of any handicaps of age or physical condition. More than a
few men actually continued to sail or returned to the sea when far past the age
of comfortable retirement, but in those days, even during peacetime, it was not
uncommon for healthy types to continue working as long as they were
physically capable.405
Most of those interviewed who attended the official USMS training
facilities did so either at Catalina Island, in California, or at either Sheepshead
Bay or Hoffman Island in New York Harbor. The training was briefly
described by a man who attended the latter. He was from Pennsylvania and
had signed up with a group of his mates in Pittsburgh in March of 1942. Their
training included gunnery instruction and the original enrolment was listed as
18 March, while “graduation” from the facility was dated 28 July, and they
officially “joined” the merchant marine on 29 July 1942. Before obtaining
proficiency certificates, or “tickets”, they underwent aptitude tests given by the
U.S. Coast Guard. The informant qualified as a Fireman/Watertender with a
“lifeboat ticket”406 separately dated at 25 June. All the graduates were then
quartered at the Seamen‟s Church Institute in New York City to await
404
. Frank Power (HMC 91-10) alleged that false papers were easy to obtain, at least
in Atlantic Canada, and he had several sets in different names and with different home
addresses. Compare with data in Chapter Six.
405
. In today‟s shipping industry, the climate is vastly different from that of the ‟30s
and ‟40s. Albert Precious retired at the age of sixty-eight, but implied in his interview that
thirty might be considered “over the hill” for a ship‟s officer today.(HMC 90-36, TTC p. 1)
406
. This was not, as might be supposed, a ticket entitling the bearer to space in a
lifeboat, but a certificate of proficiency in seamanship to prove the bearer was capable of being
a useful member of a lifeboat‟s crew in the event of emergency.
assignment to their first ships.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 1) Not all those who trained
at USMS facilities did so before their first trip to sea. One went on his first
convoy as a Cabin Boy aboard a Norwegian ship in the summer of 1944, when
he had just turned twenty-three. He paid off after fourteen months aboard and
then went to New Orleans, where he attended the USMS school and got basic
cook‟s training.(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 1)
Yet another training scheme and upgrading system in the States was
run by the Army Transport Service, sometimes called “The Army‟s Navy”.407
It was through this system that the fourteen-year-old Norwegian runaway
mentioned earlier eventually attained his Master‟s certificate. Another officer,
this one an Engineer, started by attending the USMS facility in St. Petersburg,
Florida, in August of 1943, then upgraded from a black gang rating to a
licensed Engineering Officer through ATS. When he finished at the USMS
school, he started as what he called a “cadre”408 at Transportation Officers‟
Cadet School. His application was rejected by the psychologist, as he was
twenty-one and had no high school education. He remained as “cadre” until he
reapplied in the Engineering Department. It was about a three-month course,
which he left for an additional three to three and a half months at the New
Orleans upgrading school at a small Army base on the shores of Lake
Ponchartrain. Everyone who passed the second phase was supposed to get a
commission in the Army Transport Corps, but that practice ceased early in
1944, as there were too many officers and the war was almost over. Those
remaining were given the choice of becoming ship‟s officers on ATS vessels
wherever they were, or being drafted. He chose the former and sailed with
ATS/MSTS/MSC until his retirement.(HMC 90-57, TTC p. 1)
407
. The ATS of the World Wars was twice superceded, first by MSTS (Military Sea
Transport Service) and later by MSC (Military Sealift Command), by which name it is
presently known.
408
. He repeated this several times and either meant a member of some sort of cadre
or, which seems more likely, he was misremembering a term used for some sort of sub-cadet.
The majority of British seafarers who first shipped out during the war
went through training schemes as well. Either they came out of the nautical
training schools or entered the Merchant Service through cadetship or
apprenticeship programmes. Two British respondents, neither of whom was
an orphan, attended a sea school for Deck ratings in Wallasey, Merseyside.409
Both had previously been Sea Cadets. One, who trained there for three months
before shipping out as a sixteen-year-old Ordinary Seaman in 1944, said they
learned lifeboat drill, gunnery, and seamanship and were given a kit consisting
of a “sort of uniform” of black trousers, seaman‟s sweater, belt, knife, and
“frogs”.410 The knife, he said, was one of the most important things in one‟s
possession as a seafarer.(HMC 92-48, TTC pp. 1 and 7) The other man, a
Glaswegian Scot by birth, trained and shipped out in 1945, at the age of
nineteen and was in continuous service in the Deck Department from that time
until his last discharge in 1960. He further enlarged upon the course of
training, saying they also learned knots and how to “box” a compass.411 He did
not actually learn to steer a ship at the school, however, and was forced to
acquire that knowledge from watchmates on his first ship and take a lot of
fairly serious “ribbing” about his incompetence as well. He said that when he
first sailed, late in the war, the nautical schools not catering to orphans were
where the “bad lads” were sent, and that at that time the British Merchant
Navy had many ships, but were short on crews. It seemed ideal then to draw
them from these schools, where boys were trained in the naval tradition. He
had been given a choice of being sent into the mines or to sea and he preferred
the latter. He is glad of his decision, as the experience broadened his outlook
in ways the mines probably would not have done. He said the reasons
impelling men to sea were many and varied and that those who came from the
409
. Similar schools existed for Engine and Catering personnel.
. A sort of scabbard to hold fids and marlinespikes, which are mariners‟ tools
used for splicing ropes, lines, and cables. A fid is similar to a marlinespike, but is made of
wood, rather than metal.
411
. See Glossary, Chapter Eight, “boxing the compass”.
410
orphanages were often “deep”, perhaps because they had no family life as
children.(HMC 92-11, TTC pp. 1, 2, and 6; HMC 92-12, TTC pp. 1-2)
Of the North American sampling, about a fifth were twenty-one or
older when they first went to sea. Almost a like number were seventeen. Just
under half the group were between seventeen and twenty-one, but it is easy to
see, even from these rough figures, that the number of recruits aged sixteen or
younger was not inconsequential. The vast majority of the very youngest from
both North American and British samples first sailed before the war. Most of
those who passed themselves off as older during the war or chose the
Merchant Service because they were too young for the Armed Forces were
approaching the statutory age of recruitment, but seem to have lacked the
patience to wait until they attained it.412 One of the exceptions started in the
United States Navy at the age of fifteen, having lied about his age, was
medically surveyed out at the war‟s end, and joined the merchant marine
shortly thereafter, in 1946, because life at home in Arkansas was “dull”.(HMC
89-3, TTC p. 1)
Another lied about his age and started on North Atlantic
convoys when he was only fifteen or sixteen because he was very patriotic and
a war was on. Everybody from his hometown joined the merchant marine
because “they were considered big heroes”.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1)413
Others were just leaving school at seventeen or eighteen, and
immediately signed on. Men were so desperately needed by the mercantile
marine that few Mates, Masters, Marine Superintendents, or other responsible
412
. This appears to be the circumstance, despite the fact that Capt. Emerson
Chodzko (HMC 89-2, TTC p. 3) and several others, themselves over the age acceptable for
both conscription and willing enlistment, stated that “really young kids joined the merchant
marine because they were too young to join the services.”
413
. Compare this attitude toward the merchant marine with Chapter Six, Section B,
on Shoreside Attitudes.
parties would question a lad whose appearance was not itself dubious. Even
those who might were likely to be lenient.414
The British sample who went to sea during the war seemed to differ
little from those who had first shipped out in peacetime, except in age range.
Most were nineteen or under, the dominant age being sixteen, only three being
below that, and two of those were sent out from orphanages. Only one of the
British wartime group was over twenty-one. The wartime sailings from
Canada and Newfoundland mirrored the British sample, with four respondents
sailing at sixteen and one each at seventeen, eighteen, and over twenty-one.
Those from the United States who first sailed at that time, however, appeared
to have either done so as an alternative to joining the Armed Services to which
they were unsuited for one reason or another, as a result of outside influences,
or a combination of the two. The ages of this sample fell noticeably into two
major areas, seventeen and twenty-one-or-over, with only two below
seventeen. It is interesting to note the difference in the ages at which the
British and American groups felt the Merchant Service was a viable alternative
to the Armed Forces as a means of making a significant contribution to the war
effort.415
Some typical and atypical responses to the question “How and when
did you first go to sea?” have been selected from the database, as have some
dealing with the reasons which would impel a person to go to sea. These are
organised according to general theme, but the chronological order in which the
interviews were conducted sometimes makes its weight felt as well. The
selection, which follows, is made up of material intended to exemplify the
414
. See Capt. George Jahn's comments in Chapter Six, Section A, from (HMC 895A, TTC p. 2).
415
. Since my familial religious background is in the Religious Society of Friends, it
is somewhat unfortunate that none of those who responded to my inquiries on either side of the
Atlantic had chosen the Merchant Service as conscientious objectors to active participation in
armed conflict.
generalisations made above. Military seafarers, both escort sailors and
military gunners stationed aboard merchant ships, as well as all but two or
three of the Radio/Wireless Operators interviewed have been excluded from
this selection because of the need to limit the number of selections from the
vast corpus of data and because they are of less central importance to the focus
of the study.
In the Introduction it was mentioned that some men were influenced to
go to sea by reading adventure stories. One American who went to sea in
about 1919 at the age of seventeen said his family did not live close to the sea
or have boats, but he read sea stories.(SHLSS #5 (19 August 1981), HMC TTC p. 1)
Like him, another, who was seventeen when he first went to sea more than
twenty years later in May or June of 1942, was heavily influenced by the
writings of Howard Pease. Before the war, however, shipping out was a
“Catch 22”416 -- you could not get a job unless you were in the union, but you
could not join the union without the promise of a job.417(HMC 90-24, TTC pp. 1-2)
Two of the British sample cited Percy F. Westerman‟s adventure books for
juvenile males as having provided the lure of the romantic adventurous aspect
of seafaring,(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 1 and HMC 92-31, TTC p. 5) and a third did not feel
he was influenced to sea by Percy Westerman, but possibly by Jules Verne. In
those days, he said, people, especially boys, “read a lot of World War I stuff,
like Biggles”,418 and “naturally it made you feel as though you'd like to imitate
them as a youngster”.(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 1) Others were influenced by tales of
the sea which were orally transmitted, rather than literary in nature. One said
he believed his brother-in-law influenced his interest in the merchant marine
with “sea tales” which augmented his innate desire to travel.(HMC 90-74, TTC p.
416
. This is a reference to the popular novel by Joseph Heller, and indicates a “no
win” situation where no matter what one does, one cannot succeed, but is beset by obstacles at
every turn.
417
. This was true in the 1960s as well. One could not get a job without a “Z” card,
but one could not get a “Z” card unless one had a job in the offing. I learned of this through
the personal experiences of family and friends.
418
. A fictional British “air ace” of World War I.
6)
Another said he was not really from a seafaring family. The only other
seafarer was his uncle-by-marriage, a Yorkshireman. “But I never wanted to
do anything else except go to sea.” “I really don‟t know, I think probably my
aunt told me a lot of tales. I used to go round the docks with a camera,
photographing things here and there. I wasn‟t a particularly good scholar. The
headmaster of the Liverpool Institute, which was a rather classical school here
in Liverpool, told my father to put me in the Air Force or send me to sea,
which was just up my street. ... So I ended up at sea.”(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 4)
When the war started, the American lad who was influenced by Pease
saw the situation had changed and people were needed at sea. He rather
coerced his mother, a divorcee raising two children, into writing a note giving
him permission to join the Merchant Service.419 Officials wondered if the note
was forged, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was instructed to
“report to Mr. Fish”. The following evening he had a telephone call at the
drugstore where he worked as a “soda jerk”, telling him to report the following
morning for a Messboy‟s job aboard “an old rust bucket of a tanker” built in
1912. That first voyage was to Portland, Oregon, with three old tankers in
convoy. Only one had a gun. At San Francisco, they split up and only his ship
continued to Portland. He was seasick all the way. The rest of the crew was
“old salts”, but he barely made it through each day until they reached the
Columbia River. There were three Messmen -- one for the officers and two for
the crew; he was finally put on dishwashing and the other lad did all the
serving. Once they reached the Columbia it was calm and he felt great.
Fortunately, he did not get sick on the way back.420 The trip took three weeks
and he made “big bucks”. Ashore he had made thirty-five cents an hour, but
as a seaman he got sixty dollars a month. When he paid off he went back to
419
. Cf. Capt. George Bryson‟s testimony below in this section at footnote 100.
. Compare with other testimony in Section B of this chapter, regarding
420
seasickness.
his school to show off and then caught another ship and got into the Engine
Department, where he stayed for the rest of his seafaring life, progressing
rapidly through the upgrading process to the eventual rank of Chief Engineer.
He signed on as a Wiper;421 they sailed for two weeks and were in the
shipyards for a further two weeks. The Fireman on the 12-4422 watch missed
the ship, so at midnight our man became acting Fireman and two weeks later
became an Oiler under similar circumstances. The Third Engineer would not
take on his watch an Oiler with so little experience, so he changed watches,
but stayed on the ship for fourteen months, sufficient sea time to qualify him
for OTS (Officer Training School), and he then left the ship to get his
licence.(HMC 90-24, TTC p. 2)
Some of the older group in North America had served in the military
before joining the merchant marine. One man had retired from the United
States Navy, but immediately associated himself with the merchant marine as
they were “better fed and better paid”. Starting the war with a Chief Mate‟s
papers, he soon upgraded to Master and was sailing in that capacity at the time
of his first convoy.(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 1) Another joined the Merchant Service in
his late twenties after six years in the U.S. Navy, sailing first as ship‟s
Carpenter, then upgrading, but never progressing beyond the rank of Second
Mate.(HMC 90-28, TTC p. 1) A third, amusingly enough, never sailed
unlicensed in the merchant marine. He had been in the U.S. Navy and it was
his intention to rejoin when the war started, but when he located the recruiting
officer at the Battery in New York City, he accidentally signed up for the
Maritime Service Officer Candidate School instead. He was twenty-five then,
in 1942, at the beginning of the States‟ involvement in the war.(HMC 90-36, TTC
p. 1)
Yet another had been in the U.S. Navy for six years, starting in 1927 at
421
. As has been noted previously, all ranks and ratings have been capitalised.
. To lessen confusion and conserve space, all watch times will be rendered in
numerals separated by a hyphen, rather than written out in full.
422
about seventeen, and considered re-enlisting, but joined the Merchant Marine
instead. Because of his Navy training, he did not have to serve three years as
an Ordinary Seaman before sitting for his AB‟s papers -- as would have been
necessary before the war -- but was allowed to take the examination
immediately on joining the Merchant Service. The only man with similar
experience from the British sample began his career in the Royal Navy
Volunteer Reserve during the Spanish Civil War, about 1926, and saw action
in that capacity before becoming a merchant mariner about eighteen months
before England entered World War II.(HMC 92-8, TTC p. 1) Another who served
in both the Merchant Service and the Armed Forces, sailed from 1936 until
1939 and when the war started left the sea to join the Kent Shropshire Light
Infantry. He served in the Army during the Battle of Britain, went with the
British Expeditionary Forces to France, and was evacuated from Dunkirk.
Assigned to the East Coast of England for anti-invasion work, in 1940 he was
transferred by the War Office to the Merchant Service, as heavy losses of ships
and personnel had created a need for experienced seafarers.(HMC 92-40, TTC p.
1)
The last man interviewed in the course of the research reversed the
experiences of the foregoing men. In 1940, at the age of seventeen, he first
sailed as an Apprentice in “Ropner‟s Navy”.423 When asked his reasons for
going to sea, he replied, “Of course it must sound very stupid now, but I didn‟t
want to miss the war. Being a complete young idiot, in those days I was
frightened of missing the war and at the same time I‟ve always been fond of
the sea, I‟ve liked to be near the sea, young people enjoy adventure and all
those reasons, I suppose.” On finishing his four years‟ indenture with the
Merchant Navy, he transferred to the Royal Navy with the rank of Petty
Officer and never again sailed as a civilian. In the Royal Navy he had to do
423
. The shipping firm Sir Robert Ropner‟s was so nicknamed.
two months‟ disciplinary training at HMS Raleigh in Plymouth, which consisted
of “square-bashing” and general training. “The Royal Navy always think that
the Merchant Navy‟s very undisciplined, and so they need disciplinary
training.” He then volunteered for combined operations and served on LCIs
[Landing Craft Infantry] including the D-Day landings, eventually ending up in
the Far East before his eventual demobilisation.(HMC 92-71, TTC pp. 1-2) In
contrast, having joined the United States Naval Reserve in 1939, one recruit
was called to active duty when America entered the war, but in June of 1942
he left the Navy to attend the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at King‟s Point,
New York. His first convoy experience was in 1942, when he was still under
twenty and a Cadet.(HMC 90-45, TTC pp. 1-2)
One of the youngest of the North American sample to ship out
did so at fifteen, but this was well before the war and he
“retired” three and a half years later, at the advanced age of
eighteen, in 1935. By the time the war started he was married
and working ashore, but the idea of the draft and its associated
regimentation did not appeal to him, so he decided to return to
sea. Enrolling in the United States Maritime Service school at
Sheepshead Bay, New York, he discovered all he would get
there was a “lifeboat ticket”,424 which he already had, so he cut
short his course, and went straight to sea.(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 1)
Another similarly disliked the unnecessary regimentation of the
Armed Services. He had worked at Fort Eustis in Newport
News, Virginia, and seen soldiers drilling in a downpour,
“policing” an area, etc. Their colonel had told him, “It‟s part of
the training.” “Nonsense!” said he, “It was foolish!” And he
went into the merchant marine instead.(HMC 90-57, TTC p. 1) A
like-minded Englishman chose the Merchant Navy in 1940, at
the age of twenty-one, because the alternative was the Services
or certain trades.425 He wanted something worthwhile to do and
a friend who was a seaman encouraged him. He was
“cheeky”426 enough to sign on as an AB on his first voyage and
stayed with the Deck Department throughout his seagoing
career.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 1)
A twenty-six-year-old Californian, having been in his family‟s
cattle business, had a 1-A deferment releasing him from
conscription, but nonetheless joined the Merchant Marine in
1944, as his war service. He had friends in the Merchant
Marine and trained at the United States Maritime Service
424
. See footnote 53., this chapter.
. He must have been nineteen, rather than twenty-one, as registration for
conscription was compulsory at age twenty and he was not yet old enough to register.
426
. Impudent or shamelessly presumptuous. This term is more common in British
parlance. The corresponding North American usage would probably be “fresh”.
425
school on Catalina Island, California.(HMC 90-13, TTC p. 2)
Describing himself as “a rank farm boy”427 having no
experience at all, another, who was nineteen at the time,
actually paid twenty-five dollars for a job when he got his first
papers on 25 March 1942 and signed on a Panamanian ship the
following day, to go to Archangelsk on what turned out to be
the infamous PQ17. Before leaving, he telephoned his father,
who subsequently sold off his farm equipment and joined the
Merchant Marine as well. There was only one other American
aboard the son‟s ship, an AB who was an ex-convict.(HMC 9016, TTC pp. 1-2)
A twenty-two-year-old Philadelphia native took the Engine course at
the USMS Training Center at Sheepshead Bay, New York, in 1943, because he
had always wanted to work in a ship‟s Engine Room. He had previously
worked in a shipyard as a shipfitter‟s helper, building T-2 tankers, which was a
noisy job and one had to be outside in all weathers, even in winter.(HMC 90-26,
TTC pp. 1-2)
Like him, another worked in a shipyard and was Apprentice
Machinist on a trial crew where he received much valuable advice about the
trade from older men before following his older brother to sea.(HMC 90-48, TTC
p. 1)
A significant number of respondents went into shipyard work and onto
trial crews when they left the sea at the cessation of hostilities.428
Young boys long for adventure and are subject to peer pressure, so one
Canadian boy quit school in 1939 to join the Royal Canadian Navy, but was
rejected, as he was only sixteen. A few months later, just turned seventeen, he
decided to join the Merchant Navy instead. It was 12 February 1941, and he
started as an Ordinary Seaman at forty-five dollars a month plus a thirty-five
percent bonus for being in the war zone. After about a year‟s sea time he
upgraded and sailed as AB429 until, when he had about twenty-six months‟
service, he went to a federally-owned navigation school in Yarmouth, Nova
Scotia, where he obtained the first of his officer‟s papers at the age of
427
. Cf. footnote 84., Derek Belk (HMC 92-52, TTC pp. 1-2), who came to sea
“straight off the farm.”
428
. See Section C, this chapter.
429
. As previously stated, the term AB, universally accepted in nautical language to
refer to an Able[-Bodied] Seaman, will be used throughout this work.
nineteen, qualifying as Third Mate Foreign-Going.430 His first vessel was a
Canadian tanker with a Canadian crew. It was a different way of life from that
on shore and you had to adapt. There was a lot of camaraderie. The group in
the forecastle mostly wanted to become officers, which gave them an incentive
to be professional about their work. They also took books; he learned more
algebra in the forecastle of that tanker than he had in school, but he was on his
own. He travelled a great deal, and besides his twenty years at sea, spent a
total of forty-eight years in the maritime profession in one way or
another.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 1 and 6) His story is typical of many other
respondents who made a lifetime career in merchant shipping after a wartime
beginning. A second Canadian followed an almost identical route to his
Master‟s certificate, the only difference being that he went to a different sea
training school where he, in his own words “became a ninety-day wonder” and
followed this academic training with a cadetship at sea. During the war this
second man sailed not only on Canadian-registered, but also on British- and
Free French-flag ships.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 2)
Another sixteen-year-old Canadian shipped out in September of
1941, as soon as he had finished high school. Most of his
friends were joining the Services and he was too young for the
Navy, but merchant ships were available. He also went to
Navigation School but rose no higher than a Second Mate‟s
Foreign-going certificate endorsed for Mate Home-trade.431
Like the two Captains just mentioned, he always sailed in the
Deck Department, starting as an Ordinary Seaman and working
his way up through the hawsepipe to his ticket. He was
originally from a seafaring area of Nova Scotia, but said that
many men from inland areas of Canada went to sea as
well.(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 1)
Cashiered out of the Canadian Army in June of 1942, at the tender age
of eighteen and a half, when he was found to be below their legal enlistment
age, an American respondent enlisted in the US Maritime Service in January
430
. See previous notes on the term Foreign-Going, as well as descriptive passage in
Section C, this chapter, and Glossary in Chapter Eight.
431
. This means he could sail internationally on any ship as a Second Mate or on
domestic coasting vessels as a Chief Officer.
of 1943, and attended the Hoffman Island, New York, Training School that
April. He then sailed as an Engine Room rating, crossing the North Atlantic
twice and the South Atlantic twice as well. Luckily he got the southern run in
the winter and the northern in the summer. The convoy previous to his first
voyage was attacked, but he was quite fortunate in that all his own sea time
was virtually uneventful. Amazingly enough for the time and situation, he had
a camera and took many pictures, which were not confiscated until the ship
docked where a spy ring had recently been apprehended.(HMC 90-38, TTC p. 1)
For the most part, mail was heavily censored,432 and both the taking of
photographs and the keeping of diaries forbidden during the war years, even in
the Merchant Service. One respondent mentioned that he had never kept a
diary in wartime because he was not supposed to, so there is no record of his
activities at this time.(HMC 90-63, TTC p. 1)
Having been “ramrodded out” of the Sheepshead Bay training
facility onto a coastal collier because he “was a husky kid and
had got into trouble”,433 one nineteen-year-old made his first
voyage in 1943. When the ship got in and paid off, he left her,
however, as she was an old 1910 “bucket of bolts” whose best
speed was only six or seven knots and she could not keep up
with a convoy. “The U-boats were afraid she‟d sink on top of
them, and considered her too far gone to waste a torpedo.”
Coming home in February of 1946, he entered Officer
Candidate School, but developed a medical problem and when,
after hospitalisation, he was told his previous fourteen weeks of
study did not count and he would have to start the sixteen-week
course again from scratch, he left the school and went home
without obtaining an Engineer‟s licence.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 1)
Early in 1943, an older man, almost thirty, went to Hoffman
Island (New York) Training Center, where the training
programme had been shortened because of the desperate need
for seamen. On arrival aboard his first ship, he was
immediately promoted from Fireman to Oiler and went to the
Engine Room early, to learn his new job. The bells ring ten
minutes before the watch changes in order to give the oncoming
watch time to check things before the switchover. He relieved
the other Oiler fifteen minutes early and was told never to do so
again. “If you get killed, do it on your own watch -- not on
mine.” The next morning he woke, ate, (he was on the 8-12
432
. See Chapter Seven on recreation.
. He was never more specific about this. but compare this testimony with that of
the Scot who said “bad boys” were sent to nautical schools.
433
watch) and went to the afterdeck to wait on the No. 4434 hatch.
At twelve minutes before eight a torpedo hit the Engine Room
and cut the ship in half. That other Oiler died, but my
informant, his opposite, survived to be interviewed.(HMC 90-42,
TTC p. 1)
Some Americans first shipped on the Great Lakes, like one sixteenyear-old Coal-passer in 1943, who spent seven or eight months there before
going to the coast, becoming a Wiper, and working his way up to the position
of Fireman/Oiler. He attended none of the USMS schools, but learned on the
job, a somewhat unusual case for the time, according to him. He had sailed on
the Great Lakes and both coasts before obtaining his discharge in 1945, after
which he was drafted.435 When he moved from the Lakes to the Coast, his
papers were invalidated and replaced by a small card, “Captain of the
Port...”,436 stamped “Expires at termination of war”. He quit the sea entirely in
1946, at which time the bureaucrats would not accept the Merchant Marine as
having been his livelihood. He later had problems with his discharge papers
since, well after his war service had officially terminated, he was still
“scooting between mines” in the Adriatic.437 Even his seaman‟s passport was
seized, leaving him with only one card. He regained the passport eventually,
but had to surrender it when he applied for a civilian passport for a trip with
his wife, well after the war.438(HMC 90-44, TTC pp. 1 and 4)
One Master had worked shoreside in the steamship business since his
high school graduation in June of 1941. Faced with the draft in December of
1942, he went to the U.S. Maritime Service school in St. Petersburg, Florida,
for three months and then on to the Academy at King‟s Point, New York.
There were also two “basic schools” in Pass Christian, Mississippi, and San
434
. The reader is reminded that all watch times are to be rendered in numerals
separated by a hyphen. Also, hatch numbers will be designated No. and a numeral, rather than
being written out in full.
435
. It was not uncommon in the States for a young seaman who had served
throughout the war to come ashore at its end only to be conscripted.
436
. See Chapter Seven for the use of such cards to hoodwink young women ashore.
437
. Even then a special pilot was needed to get through the minefields.
438
. His civilian passport arrived about a week later, but his wife‟s took nearly four
months to process.
Mateo, California. The “basic school” curriculum was three months of school
then six months at sea as a Cadet/Midshipman before transferring to King‟s
Point, sitting for a licence and, if physically qualified, being simultaneously
commissioned by the United States Maritime Service as a Junior Officer and
by the U.S. Naval Reserve as an Ensign. During his sea time, he became
disenchanted with academics, so he resigned, then shipped out, first as AB and
then as Bosun. He later went to an independent navigating school in New
Orleans where he obtained his licence in about the same length of time as he
would have under the “basic school” curriculum, but he later regretted not
having gone through the better educational system. Originally from New
Orleans, he was nineteen when he first went to sea, and acquired his first
licence at the minimum age of twenty in May 1945.(HMC 90-50, TTC p. 1)
A group of five friends signed up for the U.S. Maritime
Service on New Year's Eve, 31 December 1942, in Philadelphia
and two eventually were accepted. After a physical
examination which took the entire day, they were told to go
home and they would eventually be called. Perhaps the
administrators were just killing time, as only the five applicants
were there. On 2 February, my respondent got a letter telling
him to come to be rechecked and sworn in. This time the place
was packed with what he thought must have been draft dodgers,
and he could not even get inside the building. When his
enquiries met with a chilly reception, he came home and
returned the following day, telling a “chief” he had been
summoned for the previous day, but had been unable to get in.
He was then given a quick recheck and sent home for recall
once again, to finally leave on 7 April. He felt it was “a bad
scene with a lot of politics. It was all screwed up. The entire
United States Merchant Marine set-up was fouled up from the
beginning.”
He had turned eighteen the previous August, and in
November had tried to join the tank corps, but his father, whose
notarised permission was required, lived and worked away from
where the boy lived with his mother. Neither son nor father
was prepared to travel so far, so they attempted to do the whole
thing by mail, but a few nights after the boy had seen the
recruiters, President Roosevelt suspended all voluntary
enlistment and one could no longer select his preferred branch
of service -- this infuriated the youth. Meanwhile, in
December, his father died. The son was now driving an oil
truck and hated his job. One day a car pulled up with four of
his buddies inside. “We‟re gonna join the merchant marine
tomorrow. Wanna go?” “Count me in!” He was the only one
of the group who cleared all his papers at the original interview.
Another, who had problems with an incorrect name on his birth
certificate, got them cleared up and left the week before our
man did, but took longer actually getting to sea as, having a
high school education, he took a Purser‟s course which required
some medical training. This informant was a “depression boy”
who had quit school at sixteen and had not had much education.
He thought Cook/Baker would be a good job, but they
eliminated all inexperienced trainees from the course and he
became a Messman. Forty from the training school were
shipped to San Francisco and were there for about ten days with
no money or anything. It is not a good town for sailors when
they are broke. They were billeted in an old auto showroom
with bunks on the second floor, and each got a fifty-cent chit
for food every day, but even back then it did not buy much.
The chits were good in two nearby places, but all the fellows
were young and hungry, and the café staff ignored them,
knowing there would be no tips. The game was to see how
much you could get for fifty cents and then snatch the other
fellows‟ food when their backs were turned.(HMC 90-74, TTC pp.
1-2)
More of the British sample than the North American were inclined to
answer the question, “What impels a man to go to sea in the first place?” by
saying they had never considered any other career options, but had known
from the first that seafaring was to be their life‟s work. Many of the North
Americans, conversely, saw the Merchant Service as a means of fulfilling their
obligations to the war effort while simultaneously enjoying romance and
adventure. Radio/Wireless operators, however, had the additional incentive of
a real interest in telegraphy. One, from Brooklyn, New York, went to sea in
1928, when he was about seventeen, acquired his Radio Operator‟s licence by
joining the Army and taking his training there, and had been at sea for well
over ten years when the war started, even considering that he had taken one
year out to attend a Polytechnic Institute.(HMC 90-31, TTC p. 1) Another‟s whole
family were seafaring people. His father and grandfather were on ships before
the war. “I suppose the sea was in my blood and I always had an interest in
radio communications,” he said. The best way to break into both seemed to be
getting a job aboard a ship. At sixteen, in 1940, too young for the Services, he
managed to get a job on a ship just arrived from England, in the lowest, most
menial position -- Pantry Boy. He had to do all the scullery work and wash the
pots and pans, but was quite happy, knowing he had got his chance to go to
sea. For a couple of days after they left port, he was pretty seasick, but finally
overcame his nausea and became accepted as a member of the crew.439 He
liked the job and his shipmates and got on well, but knew he wanted more for
his future. After about six months sea time he had saved some money, so he
came ashore and took a course in Radio Communications. After a winter of
night school he passed his examinations and got his radio licence. His first
ship in his new capacity was an old tramp whose previous Radio Operator
became ill, making a replacement necessary.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 1) A British
respondent had a similar overriding interest in the radio aspect of the job, but
in his case it far outweighed the seafaring aspect. “With me it was the wireless
operating bit in the first place, because my uncle was a telegraphist with the
Liverpool Scottish -- he and I had spent a lot of time together. He had taught
me the Morse code.” His very first job, before ever shipping out, was as a
telegraph boy and he learned to read the messages from the paper tape. He
loved Morse, but in the early days of the war Radio Officers were signals
officers as well as radiomen and had to learn semaphore and flag signals in
addition. Most nautical signalling was done with flags.(HMC 92-63, TTC pp. 4-5)
He first went to sea about a week after his sixteenth birthday, signing on a
banana boat 23 April 1940 as Second Radio Operator, having trained at the
Liverpool Wireless College and qualified with a “special ticket”, for the
duration of the war only. The authorities must have realised they would need
extra Radio Officers and did not want them to take the time to qualify for
First- and Second-Class certificates. A Special did not require much
mathematical knowledge, but depended more on the practical aspects of the
job. The convoy was lined up in the Mersey Estuary, ready to sail. Two
words gave the cue to sail or not to sail -- just one code word would be sent to
439
. Compare with other testimony in Section B of this chapter, regarding
seasickness.
the entire convoy -- either “Nuts” or “Bolts”. The job of receiving the code
word was his first shipboard assignment. He had to be on the ball to get it
right. They sailed that afternoon.(HMC 92-62, TTC p. 1)
After saying he did not know what impelled him to go to sea, one
Master said he had always wanted to do to so from boyhood. His father was a
ship‟s Master, but died the year his son was born, and they never knew one
another, but his uncle was a Marine Engineer, one cousin was a Second Mate,
and another cousin a Cadet like himself, all with the same company, so it was
still a family affair. As for how one might perceive the sea as a career, having
suggestions of just a job, travel opportunity, romance and adventure, he said
when you are sixteen years old you probably want “all of the above”. He has
always been interested in everything pertaining to ships. The practical solution
was to go and work in them.(HMC 92-33, TTC p. 1)
Asked what draws a man to the sea, a former Wireless Operator said
everyone is different. Many, at least in England, go to sea because it is a
traditional occupation in their home area, such as Hull or South Shields.
Every family in such communities had someone at sea, and during the war
every family had lost someone. He was born in Hull, but raised in Devon, and
his family tradition, though similar, was less mercantile marine and more
naval. For him, it was an extended family tradition, as both his grandfathers
had been seafarers; one was a trawler skipper, and the other had a Humber
keel; his uncle also went to sea, as an AB, in the early 1930s. Nowadays the
old traditions have disappeared, as has seafaring.(HMC 92-15, TTC p. 2)
A Liverpool informant attributed the impulse toward seafaring to
men‟s backgrounds and upbringing. He said his friends all went to sea and the
Mersey at that time was “like a bus station”. Going to sea was the appropriate
job for a “man”. One did see the world then. There was a slower turnaround.
There are not “ships” or “shipping” any more. There are only floating
boxes.(HMC 92-3, TTC p. 4) A fellow Liverpudlian supported this perspective of
seafaring as a family and community tradition by saying his father ran away to
sea in trawlers from Grimsby and his grandfather was in the United States
Navy during the American Civil War.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 1)
One early rating came ashore with the intention of retaking the
eye test and making another attempt at a ticket, but went instead
into the offices of a shipping and forwarding agent, as a dock
representative, clearing cargoes off docks and shipping them
around England. After about a year there, he could see the war
was on its way and decided to join the Army or the RAF, as his
shore pals were doing. When he tried, he was asked what he
had done for the last five or six years. He said it was the
Merchant Navy, and was told he must go into the Navy
Reserve. He did not really want to be in the Royal Navy, but
was told he now held a conscription card (like a United States
draft card), which kept the Army from taking him, but could
return to the Merchant Navy if he chose. War was imminent
and the last week in August he decided to go back to sea. His
boss said, “Good luck; see you when the war is over!” The
respondent went to the Shipping Office and signed on Ship‟s
Articles on 4 August 1939, the day war broke out. Actually he
had signed before that to join at midnight on the third, a
Sunday.(TTC 92-34, TTC pp. 1-2)
One lad‟s first week aboard was a blur, as he had come
“straight off the farm”440 and the time was taken up with getting
himself organised. “...[I]t was bloody cold that first morning.”
On his first voyage it was cold and he was heaving up441 sevenflag signal hoists. He did not understand the job, but was told
what to do and did it. His fingers “were frozen stiff, good Lord.
But we learnt the hard way, I suppose.”(HMC 92-52, TTC pp. 1-2)
He said he did not know why a man goes to sea. After
retirement he traced his family name back to 1734, hoping to
find a seafaring connection, but could find nothing but farmers.
“I was the first ... in my line not to be a farmer. So where did it
come from? ... Oh, right from a very early age, ships were all
I.... Even though I‟d never seen a ship.” He did not foster a
love of the sea in his children, but tried to discourage them. He
was successful in dissuading his son, who at first wanted to
follow in his footsteps, but his daughter was more persistent
and “followed it farther than I ever did”, getting a degree in
Nautical Studies with First Class Honours.(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 6)
She later married a ship‟s Engineer, producing a completely
seafaring family. When she left the sea she went into Marine
Insurance.(HMC 92-53, TTC p. 1)
440
. Cf. footnote 72. Jim North, (HMC 90-16, TTC pp. 1-2), “a rank farm boy”.
. He was raising them on a mast, not vomiting.
441
One American interviewee told how, in his first job as an Ordinary
Seaman, he had to learn by example -- “monkey see, monkey do”. To learn to
steer, he went to the bridge on Sunday, when he only had to stand watch, to
see if they would let him take a turn at the wheel. After three months‟ sea
time, he sat an AB examination.442 There was no limit to upward progress as
long as one could pass the examinations, which were “stiff” in peacetime, but
in wartime men were desperately needed and a skipper was lucky if he had a
good Bosun and two or three good ABs. The informant shipped as a Wiper on
his final voyage, so he shipped all three Departments, as well as all three
coasts of the United States.443 The temperature was comfortably high in the
Engine Room, where he had been accustomed to „hang out‟ when off watch on
previous voyages. He had longed to work there, but he was upgrading
constantly and did not want to start from bottom again.444 During the war
many landsmen asked, “Why are they paying these guys so much? Why can‟t
the Navy do it?” They needed three times the men to do it the Navy way. At
night on a Liberty ship or a comparable vessel, there would be three men on
watch. On a Navy ship, they would use fifteen to twenty men for the same
purposes. The complement required for a T-2 tanker run “the Navy way”
would have been 280-320 men. The Merchant Service employed thirty or
forty plus about twenty Navy Armed Guard, and today they use even
fewer.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 3)445
The most voluble and articulate of the British ratings interviewed,
Barney Lafferty, had been raised in the dock area of Liverpool, and brought up
among ships. You could hear the ship movements and smell the different
cargoes from his home. He lived in Dublin Street, which was all dockers and
442
. Before the war, two to three years had been required.
. These would be the Pacific, Atlantic, and Gulf [of Mexico] Coasts.
444
. The upgrading process in the Engine Department proceeded from Wiper to
Fireman/Watertender and thence to Oiler[Greaser].
445
. Further elaboration on such points will be found in Chapter Five, Section A, and
in Chapter Six.
443
seamen. There was some overlap; some dockers went to sea and some seamen
left the sea and became dockers. He never thought of doing anything else but
went straight to sea.
“You were brought up, you were educated before you went
to sea, in the sea. You were listenin‟ to your father; you were
listenin‟ to your men; you were listenin‟ to your brothers, and
[like] I say, the ships passed the dock. And as kids we had a
better playground than the average kid today. We had better
ways to entertain ourselves and we had no money, as you know
about them days, but we could go round the docks and we‟d see
all the different ships.... By the time I was twelve I could tell
you all the different funnels446 and where they actually sailed.
And of course we fed ourselves off the docks. I never had to
buy an orange or anything like that, „cause ... all that stuff came
into Liverpool, y‟see, and it was a treasure chest for us, the
docks. And of course we used to have to watch the police and
run around ... but we never did nothing serious. ... But we
believed if oranges grew, they were for everyone.” There was
an abundance of stuff lying around; they were not criminals; the
waste was amazing. They were brought up listening to it. His
father and grandfather went to sea. “You‟d hear men -- that‟s
all they talked about. So it never entered your head to do
anything else.” Not every boy in the street went to sea, but
most did. Even those who did not went to work on the docks.
They were all involved in the shipping industry. It was a little
easier to go as a Fireman than as a Sailor. “So that‟s the reason
I would say we went to sea.... I‟m sure this would happen in
minin‟ villages.”(HMC 92-54, TTC pp. 1 and 6-7)
When asked what had impelled him to go to sea, Capt. Michael Curtis
said, “Ask my wife.” I did so, and she laughingly said he had been
“indoctrinated”. His father, in his own youth, had wanted to go to sea, but was
thwarted by his father, and thus was always keen that his son should adopt a
seafaring career. The son was keen as well; always encouraged to go to sea, he
“didn‟t need much encouragement”. Capt. Curtis was one of the men who
said Percy F. Westerman‟s romantic and adventurous juvenile fiction had been
a further influence in his choice of careers.(HMC 92-31, TTC pp. 4 and 5)
Within six months after the start of the war there were neither enough
ships nor enough seamen to man them, so the Merchant Navy increased by
446
. Each shipping company traditionally has a unique design or logo painted on the
funnels (smokestacks) of the vessels it operates.
about a hundred percent -- both vessels and personnel, and the latter were from
diverse backgrounds. People volunteered to go to sea as a choice between that
and the Army. A lot of local lads from port towns opted for the sea because
they knew more about it -- nearly every family had someone at sea -- but they
were not necessarily suited to the life. Men who went to sea before the war
went because they were attracted to the sea, sometimes following in the family
footsteps, but during the war you got people who had never seen a ship before
-- from Birmingham. “With this influx of men who weren‟t gonna be there for
the rest of their lives, discipline did break down.” Some forget to mention that
the Merchant Navy lost a large number of men at the start of the war to the
Royal Navy Reserve. It was common practice before the war for both officers
and ABs to join the RNR. The big attraction was that you got a little “bounty”
(a retainer of about ten pounds) every year as well as free oilskins and
seaboots. In return you did “so many weeks‟” training each year, called back
into the Navy. Barney Lafferty was surprised that this is so seldom mentioned
in reference to World War II and that there are no books about it. The RNVR
was different, less geared to professional seamen. The RNR seemed to appeal
most to seafarers from certain parts of the country; there were more men from
Ireland, Scotland, and especially Stornoway, than there were English. When
some people complain about the Irish, they forget that Irish people played a big
part in the war. Half the seamen in the British Merchant Navy were Irish when
the war started. During the war people from any part of England joined.
“That‟s where the discipline broke down. Same with the officers. You had
officers who weren‟t dedicated people, who weren‟t career people.” The
informant sailed with Fourth Officers who were only there because their
parents did not want them to be in the Army. This was possible because a
valid ticket was not required for a Fourth or even for a Third Officer then.
They were probably adequately educated to keep watch or lookout or to write a
log. There is where the discipline broke down; before the war it was pretty
consistent and there was little trouble on most ships.(HMC 92-54, TTC p. 4-5)
“Mates were old. There were no youngsters them days. You had to be very
old to get a skipper‟s job.”(HMC 92-55, TTC p. 4)
Lafferty married during the war, probably about 1941; he was quite
young, twenty-one, and it was early in the war. It was nerve-wracking for his
wife, but all the country was geared to war by then. Most wives and mothers
“realised the danger of the Merchant Navy and the Army was a toss-up”.(HMC
92-55, TTC p. 6)
The vast majority of the British sampling mentioned family
connections and, with or without such connections, stated they had always
wanted to go to sea and had never considered any other options. There were,
of course, the orphans mentioned previously, who were given little choice in
the matter, and a few, as I have said, who bluntly submitted that the basic
reason for going to sea was “escapism”.(HMC 92-57. TTC p. 2) Supporting this,
an informant agreed that men go to sea because they are escapists who cannot
face up to reality. He could never stay in good jobs, because he could not
stand being bossed around. You like to be your own man. “Where at sea, you
had a job, you done it, nobody said anything to you. Then there was the
solitude. If you got fed up with everybody you could go and lie on your bunk
and read, all night if you wanted to. You do what you like, y‟know.”(HMC 9244, TTC p. 6)
Here is a verbatim example typical of the majority of the British
respondents:
“It‟s just in me blood, because me father went away to sea
and five of me uncles went away to sea. Me mother‟s oldest
brother ... went down on the Lusitania -- First World War -- he
was ‟s Quartermaster. ... But I was from a seafarin‟ family,
y‟see. ‟Twas in my blood, y‟see, ... because before I went away
to sea, I worked in the Albert Dock in a tea warehouse, fixin‟
teachests before the war. And every day in my dinner hour, I
went across to the pierhead in Liverpool, y‟know, ... to buy two
pen‟th o‟ chips in a little fish cart there and I‟d sit there and I‟d
be lookin‟ at all the ships goin‟ to West Africa and I‟d say, „Oh,
I wanna go on that one, oh, I‟d love to go on that one, I‟d love
to go on that one.‟ and that was me. And I used to go into Elder
Dempster‟s office -- Elder Dempster Shipping Line -- and I‟d
walk in and there‟s a big fat fella with a beard and plus fours
and he‟s just sitting in the office and I‟d say „Good afternoon,
Sir. Have you any vacancies for a Deckboy, Sir?‟ y‟know, and
he‟d look at me and he went „You‟re very small, son‟ he said,
„to go away to sea.‟ I was only small. But I said, „Sir‟, I said,
„My father went away to sea and my five uncles went away to
sea.‟ He said „Whereabout do you live in Liverpool?‟ I said „I
live right by the ships. Liverpool Head.‟ „Hmm...all right‟ he
said, „Come and see me‟ he said „in three weeks‟ time.‟”(HMC
92-58, TTC pp. 1-2)
A Welsh respondent had always wanted to travel and the opportunity to
do so meant a great deal to him. Swansea, his hometown, is a port and in
those days going to sea was a reasonable job; his father went to sea in sail
when a lad and was in an Armed Merchant Cruiser during World War I, so it
was a natural progression, and going to sea in those days you travelled as you
would not have done otherwise. People travel casually now, but they did not
do so then. The only people who travelled at that time were the “jet set” of the
period and they only went by train to the South of France. Everything was
unspoiled then, as well.(HMC 92-60, TTC p. 1)
Another, who was sixteen when he signed as an indentured Apprentice
in November of 1941, intended to make a career at sea, war or no war. His
father had been at sea, and although he came ashore before his son was born,
was Dockmaster of Bromborough Dock, the Lever‟s dock at Port Sunlight,
Merseyside. The boy went with him when ships were docking, which
probably gave the lad the idea of going to sea. Although his father died when
the boy was only ten, by the time he left school at sixteen, his one ambition
was to go to sea, even though there was a war on. When he first said he
wanted to go to sea, he had to get parental permission,447 because he was under
age and it was wartime. You also had to get the local church minister to sign
447
. Cf. the experience of Clinton Johnson, above this section at footnote 72.
agreeing that parental permission had been obtained. He remembers going to
the Congregational minister and asking him to sign the form. The minister
agreed, but first went to see the lad‟s widowed mother to make sure that her
permission had actually been obtained, since he did not fully trust the boy. In
fact his mother did try to persuade him not to go, primarily because of the war,
but she was unsuccessful in her efforts. He recalls her telling him that there
was no back door448 at sea and that once he had sailed he could not change his
mind. He always remembered her saying that, because the first week at sea he
really wished there had been a back door. He was “seasick, homesick, and
every other kind of sick all at once.”449 The first voyage was two years, four
months, and twenty-five days. “That was it. I was a seaman from then on.”
After the first week he grew rapidly to like the life, but the first week he
emphatically did not. It is hard to say what drew him to the sea; he had always
liked it. He had heard his father talk about foreign places and after that first
week he rapidly got used to the life. It was freedom, exceptionally hard work,
but freedom and the eventual chance to become a ship‟s Captain. Afterward,
the main thing was progress through the ranks, upgrading, and finally gaining
a command, which was everyone's ultimate ambition.(HMC 92-66, TTC p. 1)
Yet another Merseyside lad, this one from Birkenhead, first went to sea
because he had “always wanted to” do so. His father was a seaman and had
died at sea, and nine family members (uncles, cousins, and the like) were
seafarers; it was a family tradition. “I knew I was goin‟ to sea sometime,
yeah.”(HMC 92-69, TTC p. 1)
Newfoundlanders, like Merseysiders, are born to the sea. A typical
interviewee had a father who went to sea before him, prior to his marriage.
448
. Cf. HMC 92-33, p. 4. This is a frequently used phrase, especially amongst
British seafarers.
449
. Compare with other testimony in Section B of this chapter, regarding
seasickness.
His late brother sailed for eleven years, and he himself spent twelve years at
sea. It is in the blood. The main thing in Newfoundland is “going on the
water”, although not so much now as it used to be. Many think no one from
St. John‟s proper went to sea, but there are many sailors and captains who are
St. Johnsmen.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 4) When he went to sea in August, 1941, he
was in his mid-twenties, and had served five years‟ engineering apprenticeship
in a machine shop for the Newfoundland Railway. When the war started, he
volunteered for the Royal Navy, but they had their quota for that month and
when he was asked if he would consider the Royal Artillery as an alternative,
he agreed. At that point he still had one year left to go on his apprenticeship.
Set to leave Newfoundland with the Sixth Draft of the Royal Artillery, he
developed a perforated appendix and was hospitalised and subsequently
invalided out on compassionate leave when his father suffered a stroke. He
then returned to the machine shop and completed his apprenticeship. The
Newfoundland Railway had two fleets of its own ships -- one which ran
around the coast, and another of freighters to the West Indies. After the
informant had returned to the machine shop, one of the coastal vessels needed
a Fourth Engineer, so he took the job. He had upgraded to Second Engineer
by October 14, 1943, when the Railway ferry, Caribou, was sunk by a Nazi Uboat. The informant‟s wife‟s sister was married to the Purser/Radio Officer
aboard the stricken vessel and this brother-in-law was the only officer to
survive the attack. The informant‟s own vessel became the Caribou‟s
replacement.(HMC 91-12, TTC pp. 1-2) He averred that there were ten thousand
Newfoundlanders at sea during World War II, but conceded that the total
probably included fishermen and men who made only one voyage.(HMC 91-12,
TTC p. 7)
A “Liverpool Irishman” from a seafaring family tradition also served
an apprenticeship ashore, but his was in a bakehouse, as he was a Catering
rating. In the early days, before the Pools, one got one‟s own jobs. He was
never in the Seamen‟s Union, but has been a member of the Baker‟s Union
since the age of sixteen. The Seamen‟s Union had no objection to people who
belonged to other craft unions.(HMC 92-8, TTC p. 1 and HMC 92-9, TTC pp. 1 and 3)
Those who sailed because of family traditions were not restricted to
British subjects, however. One American who had a seafaring background and
had loved the sea from childhood onwards was born in New Bedford,
Massachusetts,450 a famous whaling town, and raised in San Pedro, California,
the Port of Los Angeles. Although his father was a Master, he only passed his
Second Mate‟s examinations, and left the sea soon after the war to become an
insurance salesman.(HMC 90-12, TTC p. 3) Another must have been about thirty
when he first went to sea. He could have done so earlier, but his boss‟s
brother was on the draft board and kept him at home. He volunteered for the
Merchant Marine because all his family were sailors and fishermen. One
cousin was the Captain of a freighter in World War II.(HMC 90-42, TTC p. 1)
One British officer upheld the allegations of The Merchant Navy451 by
saying he has never regretted going to sea. He would have been a failure
ashore as he is not parsimonious, does not love money, and will not backbite
others to improve his own position. He could have gone farther than he did
ashore, but could not handle company politics; and when criticised for what he
considered proper behaviour, retorted that he would return to sea rather than
“play games”. There were, however, many Cadets at sea who would not have
been there had the job market permitted them to leave. They had signed on
with a fifty-pound premium -- more like five thousand pounds today -- and
many would have left if they could, but money was their reason for staying.
When one got into a hard trade and had stayed in it, one wanted to reap some
450
. Note in the Introduction that my family also had its seafaring roots in New
Bedford.
451
. See footnote 7. above.
of the rewards. In a good firm, security of employment was guaranteed. You
had a comfortable job and regular promotion -- and happiness, because you
liked both the people you sailed with and those for whom you worked. Most
shipping companies were very fair and very nice. The informant was never
unhappy with his employers, always feeling he could talk to them, although he
occasionally got a raw deal. A seaman had a lot of comfort aboard a ship at
sea and a better job than a “little clerk in an office”. He could make as much
or better on his wages and had all his food and lodging paid for and a bit to
spend when he came ashore, which helped the picture to level out and be
worthwhile. If you stayed at sea until you were a Chief Officer, you were “too
far gone for anything else”. To go ashore even to a sea-connected job like a
stevedore foreman would give irregular long hard hours; one would rather go
to sea. Occasionally, though, someone would be found who would not fit in at
sea because he wanted something that was not there or was tied to his mother‟s
apron strings. With that sort, “if there‟s no one to remind him to wear his
muffler ... he‟s lost....”(HMC 92-39, TTC p. 5)
A man who trained at the Sheepshead Bay facility in New York, was
seventeen at the time of his first voyage, and said his youth and inexperience
resulted in his being less frightened by the entire war than he would be today
in similar circumstances. He sailed unlicensed in the Engine Room, finally
working up to a petty officer position, Deck Engineer,452 “the best job on the
ship”, and he spent most of his sea time in North Atlantic convoys.(HMC 90-38,
TTC p. 1)
His story is proof that not all who chose the Merchant Service during
the war did so for heroic motives. He had been a fireman on the Burlington
Railroad before joining the merchant marine, and, although he knew nothing
about it, was told he would make more than twenty-one dollars a month. On
452
. This position was known as Donkeyman on British ships and was equivalent to
the position of Pumpman on a tanker.
arrival at Sheepshead Bay, he was put on KP453, whereupon he stole a cook‟s
jacket, donned it, and told the other new recruits they had to wash the pots and
pans (which was his job). His history appeared to be a collection of similar
exploits, and he described his final voyage, just after V-E Day, as “too much
togetherness” for three and a half months.(HMC 90-38, TTC p. 2)
In contrast, another joined the United States Maritime Service
training scheme in October 1943, but did not actually ship out
until February of 1944. First assigned to a training ship as part
of a crew in active service, he only sailed up and down Long
Island Sound, but wanted to get into the war, so he quit, joined
the Seafarers‟ International Union, and sailed deep sea until the
end of the war.(HMC 90-72, TTC p. 1) A native of Wilmington,
Delaware, he always shipped out of New York and considered
it his home port. It is fortunate, therefore, that his mother, on
her second marriage, moved to Staten Island and he always had
a free bunk there, a place to spend the night after a day at the
union hiring hall. This was important, as one did not get paid
between ships and “freebies”454 were always welcome.(HMC 9073, TTC p. 2)455
Before examining the reasons why these same men abandoned
seafaring as a career, it is well worth investigating some of the things that
struck them most about their vocation.
453
. Usually known as “KP” for “Kitchen Patrol” from the Armed Forces slang, this
means doing all the lowest kitchen jobs, usually peeling mountains of potatoes or washing
mountains of filthy cooking utensils.
454
. Gratuities or perquisites without encumbrance to the recipient.
455
. See Chapter Six for a discussion of seamen‟s homes and missions as places to
stay between voyages.
B.
MAJOR IMPRESSIONS OF CONVOYS, THE WAR, AND SHIPBOARD
LIFE
In the course of the interviews, a number of respondents recalled
significant facts about seafaring in the years during and surrounding the
Second World War -- facts which fell into no previously specified category of
inquiry, but which were well worth recording in an ethnography such as this.
Some were memories of specific incidents or experiences, while others were
merely general reactions to the overall situation. The former tended to be
unique to the individuals involved, while the latter were sometimes shared
sentiments or outlooks. This section therefore reports the most meaningful,
representative, and eloquent of these memories, divided into broad
subcategories.
The necessity to encapsulate much of the first-hand testimony has
already been mentioned, and in such encapsulated reporting of the spoken data
from the fieldwork interviews, the original material has frequently been
paraphrased. At this point, it should be re-emphasised that the language of
such paraphrase is inevitably characterised by the colloquial, and shortened
sentences are often deliberately retained, in order to reflect the flavour of the
original as closely as possible. Because I was present at the interviews and
also listened repeatedly to the tape-recorded fieldwork, frequently scrutinising
minute details, the actual vivid speech of the men interviewed remains readily
accessible in my memory. Paraphrases and encapsulations thus, in most cases,
remain very close to the original wording and delivery of the men‟s testimony.
1. general convoy and seafaring recollections
One man‟s succinct summation of the attitude expressed by the
overwhelming majority of subjects interviewed during the fieldwork was that,
when one did consider the situation consciously, the time was spent, “worryin‟
about your skin and a buck to buy a beer.”(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 3) Remarks such
as this were not uncommon, although the vast majority indicated that they
seldom considered the insecurity of their situation except while actually in
action or under direct threat of it. Even then they were usually too concerned
with the routines and procedures necessary in such circumstances to give the
hazards (or such abstract qualities as “heroism” or “cowardice”) much thought.
They went about their duties almost automatically and when asked in later
years what they recollected, found it was often those standard operational
procedures which differentiated wartime seafaring from that in peacetime.
Men were required to sleep in their clothes while in convoy, although
they could take their shoes off and cover themselves with a blanket. Cabin
doors were always kept open on hooks, so they could not jam and prevent
escape in case of emergency.(HMC 90-7, TTC p. 1) Because wooden doors easily
jammed if a ship were hit, “kick panels” or “crash panels” were installed.456
“They must have learnt the hard way.”(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 2) Sometimes these
panels did not work, and men had to escape through the portholes.(HMC 90-7,
TTC p. 1)
No one ever went anywhere aboard without a lifejacket. There was a
constant check on lights and batteries. Nobody slept very well.(HMC 90-69, TTC
p. 2)
Dumping of refuse was also curtailed; empty tin cans were always
“landed” on completion of short trips and anything dumped at sea was dumped
at sunset, so the vessel would be far away by the time it was discovered -- a
large passenger liner could be four hundred miles away by morning. “Finding
out the hard way” included the discovery that raiders could follow trails of
refuse to locate ships in slow convoys, but if the waste was jettisoned at dusk,
it could not be detected until daylight, thus providing adequate time to elude
pursuers. One major difference of opinion arose within the recorded
456
. These were installed in the bottom sections of most doors aboard wartime ships
and were easily released by a sharp blow, allowing the compartment‟s occupants a ready
means of escape if the door itself were jammed.
recollections. Most respondents recalled that when in convoy or in a danger
area lifeboats were usually swung out, ready for launching, but in some vessels
this was never done, because if a boat was over the side and the ship was hit, it
could blow the bottom out of the boat. If the boat was inboard they had a
fighting chance. There were different schools of thought even on simple
things like that.(HMC 92-70, TTC pp. 2-3)
Many of the men interviewed during the fieldwork recalled painting
ships grey for camouflage purposes, or having to observe stringent blackout
regulations. One respondent had vivid memories of the first wartime voyage
he made on a large passenger vessel. They had all blackout necessities aboard,
to cover the large glass windows on the promenade deck, which had lights as
well. It was an extremely difficult task, and there were beds for excess
passengers located on the promenade deck then, in addition, since so many
people were trying to get out of Europe at the time. Some of the less obvious
areas were blacked out by painting, but that was “permanent” and could not be
removed during the daylight hours. When they got “down Channel”,457 they
heard the Athenia, also bound for Quebec, had been sunk, but they were
instructed to carry on and did so. After that voyage of evacuation, the ship was
refitted and became a troopship.(HMC 91-7, TTC p. 3) Life aboard ship during
the war was “a bit austere” by comparison with other times. Nighttime, of
course, all outer doors had switches on top, so as soon as one was opened -- or
as it was being opened -- the light went out. If you even lit a cigarette on deck
“someone was down on you like a ton of bricks”, and rightly so, because even
a match could be seen for miles around. Life was “a bit rigorous” compared
with the postwar period, although the informant who told me this had no
seafaring experience prior to the war.(HMC 92-63, TTC p. 6)
457
. Standard nautical usage for moving up or down any channel, but specifically the
English Channel in this instance. The article is omitted.
Although it was not mentioned by any of the British or Canadians
surveyed, most of the Americans interviewed recalled carrying a large leather
“seaman‟s wallet” which contained all their working papers, such as their
“tickets” and discharge books. This wallet was four and one half to five inches
wide and six inches long. One made a large oilskin pouch to hold it and kept
it near the lifejackets in case of emergency.(HMC 90-65, TTC p. 1) The seaman‟s
wallet originally had a chain and was kept chained to the owner‟s belt while
ashore, like a modern “trucker‟s wallet”. The contents were important, said
“Tex” English, “...and if you lost ‟em you were in deep doo-doo....” as it took
forever to get duplicates. Among other things still in “Tex”‟s wallet are early
photographs of his wife.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 2)
Seamen on some runs were issued “exposure suits” -- like a boiler
suit[overalls] with feet. These were issued with the lifejackets when one
joined a ship. They were rather like a wetsuit, except they went over one‟s
other clothing. The suits did not belong to you, but were always handed in and
reissued for each voyage. Often when one was opened, a nasty discovery was
made -- the previous user had cut out the zip fasteners, as they were in short
supply in the United Kingdom, and had then repacked the suit without them.
In such an event, in an actual disaster, the second user would have had no
protection. “That happened many times. In fact, it got so we inspected the
suits before taking them. They were quite good metal zips. Just used to take
‟em home. Wasn‟t very nice, that.” Apart from that, the major problem was
lack of information, which continued throughout the war. “We never knew
anything and we were not told anything, probably out of necessity.”
Sometimes by pure guesswork seamen knew as much as anyone else, but
nothing was told them officially. They never knew convoy prefixes or
numbers. “You‟d just get there and get on -- see how you managed.” Vessels‟
nameboards were invariably removed; finding the right one was sheer
guesswork. One informant said he never knew the numbers of the twentythree convoys he was in -- he just happened to be there -- one of a
number.(HMC 92-70, TTC pp. 2-3) Another respondent volunteered the curious
information that, during the D-Day preparations, all ship‟s names and
registration numbers were painted out, but two days later a crew of painters
was sent to paint his ship‟s name in six-foot letters on her side, so Allied
landing craft could recognise her.(HMC 92-34, TTC pp. 6-7)
Many respondents remarked on the conditions along the Eastern
seaboard of North America in the early stages of the war, and how easy it was
for merchantmen -- primarily tankers -- to be picked off by marauding Uboats, as they were often silhouetted against the lights of coastal resort towns
not yet subject to blackouts. The period was known by the Axis as “the happy
time”.458 When the convoy system was put into action there, the U-boats
moved to the Caribbean; when Caribbean convoys were begun, they moved to
the middle of the North Atlantic, into the “Air Gap”. Allied bomber bases in
Greenland and Iceland, plus improvements in radar and sonar, won the Battle
of the North Atlantic.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1) The area around the Florida Keys,
the northern Caribbean, and the Eastern approaches to the Gulf of Mexico was
known as “Torpedo Alley”.(HMC 90-63, TTC p. 1) It was a “ticklish trip” for the
usual tanker traffic -- no convoys, no patrols, no nothing. These vulnerable
vessels were not even supplied with U.S. Navy Armed Guard until a good nine
months after the States had entered the war, but the Germans were still out
there. “If you didn‟t get one SOS during a watch, you got two.” About three
days before arriving in Portland, Maine, one informant advised his Swedish
Captain he was quitting, being unwilling to continue at war in a tanker loaded
with petroleum products. The Captain called him a “yellow-belly”, but he said
458
. Another wry nickname for this period was “The Atlantic Turkey Shoot” and a
second interval also called “happy time” occurred at a slightly later date. Also, HMC 90-51,
TTC p. 1 lists a “Torpedo Junction” off the Dry Tortugas. This should not be confused with
“Torpedo Alley”.
no, he would not be hit on a tanker. He then joined United Fruit Company and
went right back into “Torpedo Alley” for the next seven or eight months on
banana boats with no protection at all. Instead of crossing the Gulf of Mexico
from Yucatán to New Orleans, they went up the Florida coast, anchoring at
night near the shore, shutting down completely, and walking about “in their
stocking feet”459 to prevent being heard by U-boats.(HMC 90-63, TTC p. 1) One
Canadian respondent spent most of the war aboard ship, sometimes not getting
ashore for two months at a time. He was mostly in the Atlantic, running from
Canadian and U.S. East Coast ports to the Caribbean on tankers. When
tankers first hit the coast in early January of 1942, there were frequent sinkings
with less than a day between them. This was “Operation Drumbeat”,460 mostly
covering the area from New York southward. In 1942 -- probably May -somewhere near Chesapeake Bay, in one day he counted eighteen ships sunk
during the daylight hours. Things were not very good because the United
States still opposed the convoy system. There should have been convoys, but
there were not; after the convoys came in, it was different.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 1)
The mid-Atlantic “Air Gap” was always a problem. In the early
stages of the war, ships were escorted to a “reasonably safe
area” and dispersed to proceed alone. Looking back, although
one respondent sailed throughout the war and was in twentythree separate convoys, he was mostly in vessels which sailed
independently and he “never saw a thing”. From what can be
read today, one would think merchantmen in World War II
always sailed in convoy and that unescorted ships were sitting
ducks if they did not have the speed. Certainly they often were
slow. Perhaps it was just sheer luck. About ninety-five per
cent of the time at sea during the war they were unescorted, and
even the convoys (except trooping convoys) were unescorted,
except for the latter stages to get them home through the danger
area. Rex Rothwell spent months and months just “chugging
around” and saw no action except air raids in port. Probably
most ships were the same -- fortunate. They had “a lot of blind
faith.” One early convoy from Halifax to the U.K. was a large
convoy of forty or fifty ships fully loaded and homeward
bound, but the only escort consisted of one AMC[Armed
Merchant Cruiser] and a French submarine, “stuck right in the
459
. This would be the standard North American usage.
. This is the English rendering of Paukenschlag, the German name for the
submarine strategy in use during the “happy time”, which caused so many casualties in Allied
tanker fleets.
460
middle”. There were no safeguards on the periphery. Had they
been attacked, Rothwell now believes this defence would have
been completely useless and the entire convoy would have been
“a wipeout”, especially if the wolfpacks461 had been there at the
time.(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 2)
Like Rothwell, several other informants said nothing much happened
in convoys,462 although one who made this assertion was torpedoed while
sailing independently, bombed while in harbour, and mined while in group
manoeuvre. He maintained that the only thing of interest was the alteration of
course if an enemy submarine was detected; the escorts went on and the
merchantmen turned away. He felt safer in convoy than sailing alone,
especially if there were submarines about but, although he saw some action in
convoy, nothing involved either him or the vessel on which he was sailing and
“nothing of interest” happened.(HMC 92-2, TTC p. 4)
a) "liberty ships" and stress damage
Some interviewees thought it surprising to see how many British
“bottoms”463 were sailing during the war, especially tramps; one respondent
said he had seen plenty of ships in port, but never before in convoys of sixty or
more vessels.(HMC 92-38, TTC p. 1) Many recollections revolved around the
standard ships previously mentioned -- Liberty ships, known in England as
“Sam” ships,464 in particular. Liberty ships were impressive. Large convoys of
thirty to forty ships formed right outside the Narrows of New York Harbour,
escorted by corvettes, destroyers and blimps.465 They often went from New
York to Halifax, Nova Scotia, to form even larger North Atlantic
461
. During the Second World War, German U-boats which hunted in groups were
known as “wolfpacks”.
462
. See below for further remarks to this effect.
463
. The reader is reminded that the term “bottoms” is universally understood by
those associated with maritime trade to refer to working commercial ships.
464
. They were so-called because all such standard ships transferred to the United
Kingdom under the “Lend-Lease” system, were given names involving the prefix Sam-.
465
. These were airships or dirigibles, manned and equipped to act as air cover for
slow convoys over short distances. Enemy submarines were more easily detected from above
and the range of vision was vastly extended. The term “blimp” itself supposedly originated
during or shortly after World War I, when military airships and defensive balloons were
designated as types “A. Rigid” or “B. Limp”.
convoys.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1) Another convoy trouble, of course, was bad
weather, especially with Liberty ships. They were very good ships but, when
empty, were “like a balloon on the water, and you had to watch out when they
„fell away‟ to prevent them landing on top of you.” Fortunately, going across
the Atlantic, the prevailing winds were generally in the same direction, but you
still had to watch out all the time in bad weather. You could never relax.(HMC
92-40, TTC p. 4)
An American informant from Delaware, after his first
experience on a Liberty ship, swore he would never ship out on
another. They were “lousy” ships; this one started to split in a
storm and had to come back to port for repairs. The cracks
were pretty big, between one and two-and-a-half inches.466 It
made the crew nervous. He will always remember the storm; it
was February 1944; a big storm, but he does not know what
convoy. He remembers standing on the lee deck and watching
a deckload of crated aircraft falling off a tanker into the sea,
while he thought of the taxpayers‟ money going to waste.(HMC
90-74, TTC p. 2) A British interviewee was conscious of similar
concerns. One of the things that struck him particularly about
wartime sailing was a ten-month voyage carrying only two
cargoes. “What a waste!” They invariably went out empty,
never had an outward cargo, but always had something coming
back.467 His last voyage was nearly ten months long. They
went out in ballast to Chile; loaded nitrates for the Bitter Lakes;
returned empty to Mauritius for sugar, and went back to the
U.K. -- two cargoes. It seemed such a waste and must have
been multiplied many times over. Even on a single voyage to
Australia, a ship would go out empty and come back with grain,
but there was nothing to export.(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 4)
Liberty ships were sometimes credited with actually having won the
war, since, according to one informant, they carried seventy-five percent of the
essential cargoes. One Liberty could carry a load equal to four trainloads of
seventy-five boxcars each. Liberties were no good in peacetime, however, as
they were too slow.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1) When the war started, the United
States was not prepared to take care of her Merchant Fleet. She was just
466
. In the Aleutian campaign: The Liberty ships were of welded construction and a
number of them, due to faulty shipyard work and the rapid changes between air and sea
temperatures, split in half. This usually happened at the Number Three hold bulkhead and
almost invariably without warning.(Carse, The Long Haul, 174)
467
. cf. R.A. Simpson, HMC 92-5/92-6.
starting to build new ships -- mostly Hog Islanders.468 Then President
Roosevelt passed a law to raise the Plimsoll mark.469 A Liberty ship could thus
be burdened above her normal 10,000-ton capacity to 12,000 or even 13,000
tons. It put them deeper in the water, but they were well-built and mostly safe.
When they did crack under stress, toe-plates were welded into the bulwarks to
inhibit further stress fractures.(HMC 90-65, TTC p. 1) Some of the men
interviewed gave very circumstantial data about standard ships, based on fact,
but not fully accurate. One said Liberties were built in only fourteen days and
used regularly to split in half amidships in heavy weather, because of bad
welding. He said Henry Kaiser built them, all the welders were girls, and the
vessels were built to last for only one trip to keep the war going.470(HMC 92-48,
TTC p. 2)
Not all ships which suffered structurally from the rigours of the North
Atlantic were standard ships; some were merely old and decrepit. The
Panchito was in such bad shape she “buckled” in storms and set off the steam
whistle. She would blow so badly that she would lose steam and the tide
would carry her away at eight knots while her engine was only making six.
She was going in reverse at about two knots toward a lee shore in a storm.
The Mates, their faces grey and taut, were chewing their fingernails;
nonetheless she survived. The crew were running up the bulkheads in their
rubber boots to see how far they could get when she tipped. It was mad. The
older ones had a harder time, as they were worrying about shipwreck. The
468
. These were a World War I style of standard ship, originally built at a shipyard
on Hog Island in the harbour at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
469
. A mark designed by Samuel Plimsoll in the nineteenth century and painted on
the sides of ships to indicate when they were fully, but safely loaded.
470
. Mass-production techniques reduced the necessary time for building one Liberty
ship from nearly nine months to about sixteen days. The Robert E. Peary, was turned out in
four days and fifteen hours as a result of competition and rivalry between shipyards.[Bunker,
Liberty Ships, 12.] Kaiser was the primary, but not the sole builder. Many, but certainly not
all shipyard personnel during the war, were women. The vessels were thought to have justified
the effort put into their construction if they made one successful round trip. Although the
number of Liberties which cracked under stress was large enough to be noted, it was still a
small minority of the total number of such vessels produced.
informant, a self-styled “hero” and showoff, was working aloft throughout this
episode.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 5) The Lieutenant St.-Lubert Bie also cracked in the
North Atlantic and had to be bound with wires, leaving the convoy and sailing
straight for the Clyde. Three ships were lost from that convoy through weather
stress. In the middle of the night, when the ship cracked, the informant
thought they had been torpedoed, but when the lights went on, he realised they
had not. He was in charge of shoring her up. She was repaired and survived
the entire war although she did crack a second time, across her beam. She was
a seven-hatch ship -- quite large compared to the usual five-hatches of a
Liberty ship or most other vessels of the period.(HMC 92-35, TTC pp. 2-3)
b) navigation and signalling
The Royal Navy‟s idea of being in convoy was confined to Royal Navy
ships, easier to keep on course in bad weather than merchantmen, which had
added complications, such as shifting cargoes, that could make the situation
even more perilous. In peacetime they would have “hove to”471 and ridden the
bad weather out for a while, but could not do so in a convoy situation, or even
alter course to keep their cargo safe. Navy ships, on the contrary, could just
drive right through. There were quite a few forces working simultaneously
and the experience of World War I veterans was invaluable to their successors
-- things like how to “bring a ship up short” when it was closing on the one
ahead. Eventually merchant mariners became quite skilled at such
manoeuvres, but some had no experience at all in convoy sailing when they
started and “you learned all the time. The Merchant Navy was very raw in that
respect.”(HMC 92-38, TTC pp. 1-2) A British informant said:
American merchant ships in convoy would wander over
close to you. You would only alter course when you had to.
When they would get close you would see an American skipper
471
. This would be the generally acceptable nautical usage. It is also standard
nautical usage to say the vessel “laid up” in a port, rather than she “lay up” or she “was laid
up”.
or Mate sitting in a chair on the monkey island472 puffing a
cigar. It was like a joke, but was not a joke, as they did not take
it as seriously as we thought they should. Once you had lost a
ship or seen many ships lost, you would realise the seriousness
of the situation. You don‟t fool around.
He “got a kick out of the Americans with their cigars and things ”,
apparently not paying much attention, but toward the end they got as serious as
the rest, and “you adopted a no-nonsense attitude -- if you survived.”(HMC 91-6,
TTC p. 2)
Another interviewee said young junior officers also used to observe
various ships, and at night the ships in any given convoy all had different
compass errors, so they would close in on each other and then slowly work
back out again, almost as if the convoy were breathing. It depended on the
weather. If it were rainy, bad weather, the first sign of an approaching ship
would be the sound of its screws473 and you had to take immediate evasive
action. In one such circumstance -- luckily on a clear night -- the informant
suddenly saw the stars begin to swing across the mast and realised they were
out of control. Fortunately the Master was on the bridge talking to him at the
time, and assumed command. Also, being a twin-screw, their ship was able to
avoid the others, but the first thing the informant did was to switch on all the
lights. The steersman “had been fiddling with the ship‟s wheel”, which had
fallen off and had to be replaced. The following morning they received a
message from the Commodore asking what the matter had been the night
before. They said it had been a steering defect and nothing more was said, but
“it was a nasty ten minutes”.(HMC 92-40, TTC p. 3)
A Californian Deck Officer recalled a voyage from San Francisco to
New Zealand and then on to the Persian Gulf with inadequate charts. They
472
. The “monkey island” was a small exposed platform bridge above the “flying
bridge” atop the wheelhouse. The ship could be steered from the monkey island and it was at
an excellent height for an observation station in a convoy situation. Its major disadvantage
was that it was exposed to the weather.
473
. “Screw” is the term usually used for the propellor in situ, as it were, while the
word “propellor” is usually used only to designate the mechanical part, as on an invoice when
a replacement is ordered. A “twin-screw” vessel has two propellors, one on each side of the
rudder.
had to construct their own from Bowditch‟s Tables474 and buy them in various
ports. There was so much traffic congestion in the Gulf that it took nearly
three months to discharge. From there they sailed independently to Bahía,
where about a forty-ship convoy was assembled, and they started off with that,
then were torpedoed and towed to Trinidad and on to New Orleans. That was
the only dramatic incident during the war. They also went to Tarawa from
Port Hueneme, California, and lay off the island while the United States
Marines landed. They then brought the “Seabees”(U.S. Naval Construction
Battalions)475 in, once the island was secured. He did not consider this exactly
scary, as “you‟ve just got a job to do -- you do it”. Recounting night bombings
and searchlights, he said in his experience the planes never hit anything, but
there was “so much light you could read a newspaper”, and the phosphorus
flares “lit up the area like a fairgrounds[sic]”.(HMC 90-2, TTC pp. 1-2)
In his description of towing a large drydock independently in the
Pacific, one British rating said only navigating officers understood the real
dilemmas of discovering there were enemy submarines on their projected
course -- the rest of the crew simply carried on and maintained a strict lookout.
The main problem was worry, not knowing where the subs were, or if you
would run into them. You felt much safer at night. With a tow as well as your
own ship, there was no way you could survive an attack, even if you were
armed. Approaching Eniwetok, the first sight was palm trees apparently
growing out of the ocean. Several such atolls had been bypassed by the Allied
Forces and were still in enemy hands. It was fairly well along in the war,
about 1943. They arrived in a harbour where a motorboat came out and
literally flung rolled-up charts aboard, after which they had to send a man aloft
474
. These mathematical aids to navigation, devised in the early nineteenth century
by Nathaniel Bowditch, are still in use today, with only minor modification.
475
. Although, undoubtedly, the term “Seabee” arose from the initials C.B., for
Construction Battalion, the group is always so called and their insignia is that of a bee in a
naval rating‟s white hat.
to the lookout to watch for the harbour entrances and then had to manoeuvre
all the [shortened] tow into the harbour. They could see huge boulders on the
coral below, which had to be avoided. The charts showed all the vital points
for navigation, but also numbered circles as anchorages for every ship. There
were probably sixty or seventy ships already inside, mainly merchantmen, as it
was a central sorting basin for the Southwest Pacific war. Their British tanker
was important to the war effort because she had aircraft on her decks, plus an
oil cargo and a tow.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 1) Homeward bound, even after V-E
Day, they had to be alert for German U-boats which had not yet surrendered.
Coming up Channel,476 the weather was very bad and they first narrowly
missed a couple of mines and then began to see them everywhere. On calling
the Dover pilot, they were informed that there was indeed a mine alert. The
informant thought, “All this way and mines to contend with this close to
home!” Fortunately they arrived safely in harbour.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 4)
Another interviewee recalled that, when in harbour at Gibraltar, his
ship had to be “keelhauled” every two hours, by throwing a hawser over the
bow, bringing it up on either side of the ship, and trawling it from forward
right aft, to knock off any mines which might be attached to the hull. They felt
uneasy laying477 there. At least underway you can avoid some things.(HMC 9240, TTC p. 6)
Capt. Steve Browne elaborately detailed a trip to Poland immediately
after the war, during which time he was navigational officer. He told how he
managed to keep to the swept channels, and gave the course in detail. He
might not be able to tell you what he had for breakfast yesterday, but he can
476
. See footnote 100. above.
. The reader is reminded that, although the word “lay” is here misused by the
criteria of standard English usage, it is an acceptable form in nautical parlance.
477
remember that trip well -- the captain, he said, was “a real mothah”.478 He also
described the one-, two- and three-broom navigational buoys, which denoted
the channels “swept” clear of mines. These buoys had actual brooms tied to
them for rapid visual identification, in the same way that other buoys are
frequently distinguished by brightly-painted markings. A photograph of these
buoys-with-brooms is no longer in Capt. Browne‟s possession,(HMC 90-50, TTC
p. 2)
so it was impossible for me to either describe them in detail or to insert an
illustration; nevertheless the concept was so extraordinary it could not be
disregarded.
One British merchant Wireless Operator said he did not recognise other
operators‟ “fists”479 as one of the Americans did.480 Because of radio silence,
few signals were transmitted in wartime and there was little or no opportunity
to become familiar with another‟s style, due to the circumstances.(HMC 92-15,
TTC p. 2)
Amusing incidents were not unknown, however. On one ship, soon
after they had left convoy, and while the informant was on watch in the radio
shack, the ship in front of them sent a “QQQQ”481 message, meaning a
suspicious vessel was following -- this was about a quarter to four in the
afternoon. The watch started scrutinising the ship ahead, looking for the
suspicious vessel, until eventually the Mate realised they were the “suspicious
vessel”. As they were on the same course, they changed course at the same
place as the vessel in front; they also had a deck cargo of boxed airplanes,
which made their outline resemble that of an armed raider. The situation could
have been dangerous for both vessels from U-boats as well as from their own
forces, but as it was, it was amusing.(92-15, TTC p. 4)
478
. The term “mothah” is a North American dialect semi-euphemism for “motherfucker”, an insult common to urban blacks and to the Southern “redneck”. The spelling
reflects the prevalent pronunciation and is a common dialect rendering in North America itself.
479
. The term “fist” in this context refers to the unique personal style of each Radio
Operator in transmitting code. Like an individual‟s voice or handwriting, each Wireless
Operator's “fist” would be easily recognisable to those with whom he had regular contact.
480
. Sam Hakam, HMC 90-31, 90-32, 90-33.
481
. See immediately below for a discussion of these four-letter wartime emergency
messages.
At the beginning of the war, normal radio practice was suspended. The
Admiralty issued their own instructions, including new signals to be used in
case of enemy action. Each of these signals was composed of four identical
letters. “SSSS” used before a message meant that the ship was under attack by
a submarine or had struck a mine (undersea threat). “AAAA” meant attack by
aircraft. “RRRR” meant the merchant vessel was being attacked by a warship
(surface raider). Those were the three originals. Then, during 1940, they
added “QQQQ”, meaning they were threatened by an armed vessel disguised
as a merchant ship -- what was called a “Q-ship” in World War I. The purpose
of these signals was to indicate to the Admiralty the nature of the attack, so
they could take effective action. The rest of the message after the code would
give the nature of the attack and the position co-ordinates and was always very
brief. At the beginning of the war, they were told to include the name of the
ship sending the message, but later this practice was terminated. Ships‟
nameboards were removed as well. Merchant ships were not supposed to go
to anyone‟s assistance on orders of the Admiralty; only escorts or other naval
vessels were to do this. Merchantmen were under instructions to keep away.
This created an unfortunate situation where some men were left to
drown.(HMC 92-16, TTC p. 1) Another British Wireless Officer, who reinforced
this information, said that at one point he had received four RRRR messages
in the space of an hour. Although he did not know it at the time, it was the
Jervis Bay convoy.482 He considers the British stupid in the extreme to use
large passenger vessels, such as the Jervis Bay, as auxiliary cruisers. They
were huge, bulky, and not particularly fast. By comparison, German
commerce raiders483 were fast, small, and very efficient. The British could
have used similar types.(HMC 92-6-2, TTC p. 5)
482
. The Armed Merchant Cruiser Jervis Bay was lost in an historically celebrated
heroic action defending the convoy she escorted from a German surface raider.
483
. The reader is reminded of the use of the term “commerce raider” to mean a
vessel on detached military service whose main operational target is seaborne commerce
during wartime.
2. general wartime memories
Most general positive comments about seafaring appear in other
sections of this chapter, but Bob Imbeau, who sailed with the Army Transport
Service, somewhat sheepishly admitted to having enjoyed the war itself -parts of it. Although glad when it was over he met a lot of people, made a lot
of friends, and saw a lot of places. He had the opportunity of visiting twentyseven different countries, and became the youngest disbursing officer
[paymaster] in the United States Treasury Department.(HMC 89-5B, TTC p. 7)
Other men interviewed during the fieldwork, who likewise experienced no
direct enemy action, described their wartime sea experience as “smooth” or
said they had “never got their feet wet”. One Maritime Regiment484 gunner
himself only lost one ship, the Bolton Castle on convoy PQ17, but had known
men who lost as many as eight.(HMC 92-14, TTC pp. 2-3)
Tom Goodyear, now a retired Master, lost his job as
Quartermaster,485 but managed to stay with the same vessel by
changing to the Engine Department. They put steel shutters on
all the portholes and the bridge windows, painted her grey, and
set forth to what Goodyear considered to be “the greatest
adventure in the world. I was afraid the war‟d be over before
we could get over there.” On the third day out he was given the
job of going into the back of one of the boilers for a
maintenance job. Terrified and in a state of panic, as he is
slightly claustrophobic by nature, he had not been inside long
when the Leading Hand, an Irishman, came to the little
manhole door and said, “Come out, Goodyear! The war‟s
started! Come out quick! We got to flash up this boiler!”
Goodyear thought it was the end of the world and that he could
not get out. He was absolutely terrified, but somehow managed
to get out -- quickly.(HMC 91-4, TTC p. 3)
Apprehension and monotony were the two primary sensations the
interviewees dredged out of their memories of convoy during the fieldwork.
Other than that, it was just a case of doing the job for which they had been
484
. The reader is reminded that the official term was Maritime Royal Artillery, or
M.R.A.
485
. The job of a Quartermaster is to steer the ship, look after signals, and do
gangway watches. This suited Goodyear to perfection, as he was on the bridge “where the
action was” and was interested in the running of the ship.
hired. Asked what it was like for a young lad in a convoy situation, veteran
seaman R. J. Warren replied:
As a personal opinion, for the first two years it was a
novelty ... for the simple reason that it was an adventure until
one or two things happened and I begin to realise that I was in a
situation which could be very traumatic -- very frightening and
also very destructive. It was when you‟d been in a number of
convoys which had been attacked by ... aircraft or had been
attacked in a North Atlantic convoy by U-boats and had seen
[???] blown up and ships goin‟ up all around you, but ... I
would say for the first few voyages, not even a couple of years,
I think it was, I think I didn‟t realise ... how serious the situation
that I was in. It was a novelty until I ... got a bit older and I
begin to realise that there was a lot more goin‟ on than what I‟d
originally realised. ... In fact, I suppose I begin to realise what
could happen to me -- what was happenin‟ to other people.... It
wasn‟t a situation that I worried about, because I believe I was
too young to -- when you‟re that young you don‟t worry too
much. I don‟t think you got the message. It was only when you
got a little bit older and you saw things happenin‟ around you
and especially attacks with aircraft that you could actually see,
where you couldn‟t actually see a submarine, I mean ... if a ship
was torpedoed there‟d be one great big bang and that would be
the end of that sort of thing.”(HMC 92-50, TTC pp. 4-5)
Alan Peter was “not interested in being blown up”. He was
not really frightened, but occasionally scared, in action, but he
“sort of dismissed anxious thoughts”. You worked without
allowing fears to upset you. Occasionally you thought you
might be torpedoed, but you never thought you would die.
There was more concern for others whom you saw die when
other ships were hit.(HMC 92-34, TTC p. 5)
Rex Rothwell, likewise, was never really frightened. “You
would get a bit of a start from crashes and depth charges”, but
he was never afraid to sail, probably because he was lucky, and
it was a routine job. Many peacetime jobs were also dangerous.
He can never recall anyone saying they had had enough and
were going to quit. Opportunities opened up in North America,
for shore jobs, but few if any took them. He, himself, never
knew of any who did. “You always had the feeling that you
were gonna get there, just the same.” It was accepted. No one
deserted. In the Engine Room there was always much
hammering and banging in the normal course of work, though,
and they stopped that. (Minor things were learnt by
experience.) They also stopped striking bells for the end of
watches. They must have found out the hard way that it was
dangerous, as sound could carry under water.(HMC 92-70, TTC pp.
2-3)
Monotony was regularly cited in the fieldwork data as a major
complication of convoy life. The main thing about the convoys, said one
respondent, was the boredom of day-to-day routine and the fearful anticipation
of disaster. His “fondest” memories are of cold and miserable weather. There
were days of routine and then attack and fifteen minutes of sheer fright. He
was too young at the time to realise the situation. There was always the
anticipation of getting into port and meeting girls.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 1)
Another said he was thoroughly exhausted -- far too tired to be scared. There
were never enough men to spread the load and the officers “double-watched”
as much as possible when things were “hot” -- the Captain standing watch
with the Second Mate and the Chief with the Third. Of course, double
watches could not be maintained at all times....(HMC 92-38, TTC p. 1)
Another agreed about the boredom, then said one remedy was to keep
an eye on the commodore ship and read the flag signals, attempting to react so
quickly they could anticipate the message to relay it and fly their flags almost
as the commodore‟s went up. Under normal circumstances it would be about a
ten-minute wait to read the signals and set up to relay them. When the
Commodore lowered his flags, all other ships were to lower theirs -- that is
how the manoeuvre ended -- then the order was carried out. At night coloured
lights replaced the flags. These were located on a signal mast called a
“Christmas tree” above the monkey island,486 so they could not be mistaken for
navigation lights, and were used mainly for urgent messages at night, such as
when meeting another convoy going in the opposite direction, which required
course alteration. Once there were problems with sea room when two convoys
were meeting near Gibraltar, and it was decided to turn all the lights on in one
convoy to prevent collisions. “There was bad communication somewhere. It
was a terrifying experience.”(HMC 92-40, TTC p. 3)
Fieldwork also established a general agreement about the constant
anxieties of wartime at sea. “I think one of the worst things was apprehension
486
. See footnote 110. for a definition of “monkey island”.
-- apprehension of things that might happen and didn‟t happen, especially if
you were sailing independently,” said one Liverpudlian, “Every time Churchill
spoke and said things were getting better, they seemed to get worse, and you
were in each locality.”(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 5) Another gave a graphic description
of how this apprehension or “fearful anticipation”, as the earlier interviewee
put it, could affect even the most experienced and responsible seafarer. En
route from London to the Firth of Forth, a big Harrison ship was in a small
coastal convoy with ten or twelve little coasters. The Commodore aboard (RN
retired) had been torpedoed more than once previously. The first night at
teatime,487 a steward came and rang a gong and the Commodore nearly jumped
out of his skin -- he almost jumped over the side. They never rang the gong
again after that.(HMC 92-33, TTC p. 5) Likewise, one of Frank Power‟s
shipmates, who had been torpedoed previously, panicked in an false alarm
emergency situation, despite being an “old, cool guy” and chopped through the
falls on a lifeboat, throwing its contents, including the supplies and himself,
into the sea.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 2)
Another Newfoundland informant and a shipmate, however, escaped
from another stricken vessel because they did not panic.(HMC 91-8, TTC p. 2)
This was their second experience, as well. In the first, when the ship was hit
and they got the lifeboat away, the informant, certain there were still men
trapped aboard, was determined to return to the ship. Eighty-seven were found
trapped near the fo‟c‟sle head, with all the smoke and flames aft and, having
two seventy-five-man boats, one about half full (thirty-four) and the other
nearly empty, they managed to rescue the trapped men, who were the last to
leave the ship before she went down. All were later picked up by one of the
escort destroyers.(HMC 91-7, TTC p. 6)
487
. “Tea” is the British term for the evening meal known as “supper” or “dinner” in
most areas of North America.
Several members of the “black gang”488 recalled that the Engine crew
was pretty concerned about submarines. In the Engine Room, they could both
hear and feel the impact of nearby depth charges and if ten exploded without
hitting anything, men would begin to edge toward the ladders. The distance at
which the explosions occurred was also significant.(HMC 90-26, TTC p. 3; HMC
90-44, TTC p. 1)
One respondent described an incident while depth charges
were being dropped, when the Engineer on watch became concerned for the
man working in the shaft alley.489 “The First Assistant went over and opened
the door once to see where the guy was and the shaft alley was full of water.”
Had the First opened the door all the way, he probably would never have got it
closed again.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 2)490 Another, however, recalled that “We‟d
just carry on our normal duties, usual procedures -- greasin‟ and oilin‟.”(HMC
92-49, TTC p. 5)
A Deck Apprentice agreed, “You didn‟t think of it really. It
was a job and that was it; you just carried on doing the job.”(HMC 92-66, TTC p.
2)
As for torpedoes, Capt. E.S. Wagner, a Canadian, said, “You‟re young --
eighteen. You wouldn‟t do this if you were fifty-eight. You‟re ignorant. We
were down below decks where the torpedoes would have struck, painting our
own cabins. Youth is heedless. You think, „It won‟t be me; it‟ll be the other
fellow.‟”(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 1) An English rating attributed much jumping ship,
bad reports, and the like to the fact that wartime crews were so young. Above
all, he said, responsibility was shown aboard in wartime because it was
necessary. How seamen “disported themselves” ashore should have been no
matter if they behaved at sea. The main concern was winning the war and they
made their contribution.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 1) Despite being sunk and taken
488
. The reader is reminded that this term was, for nearly a century, an acceptable
standard usage for Engine Room ratings.
489
. The shaft alley is the housing through which the ship‟s drive shaft passes from
the Engine Room to the screws or propellors. It is equivalent in size to a narrow, cramped
hallway, and one or more men can work there in reasonable comfort unless claustrophobic.
490
. Doyle Bales, HMC 90-35, TTC p. 1, endorsed the shaft alley‟s reputation as a
“death trap” and the dangerous conditions there are also corroborated in Merchantmen at War,
105.
prisoner, another interviewee said, “When you‟re only twenty years old, you
don‟t worry too much.”(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 3)
a) memorable losses and rescues
A number of PENs dealing with other, rather horrific reasons why men
recalled the distress of their wartime service have been omitted from this
work. They appear all too often in the collections of seafarers‟ wartime
reminiscences published at intervals since the war‟s end, mostly in Great
Britain. One brief example will be sufficient. The informant was aboard a
vessel designated SOFB [Senior Officer Ferry Base], which was anchored at
the entrance to the Caen Canal during the Normandy landings. They first
landed 2500 commandos in small landing craft, and one went to silence a
gunpit at Deauville, but when it turned to leave, a shell hit the messdeck,
killing about fifty ratings. They returned to SOFB to clean up the mess. It was
appalling. Three volunteered to do the job, and the informant, although not
easily put off his food, was sickened to the point that he could not eat for two
days. It was the worst he ever saw.(HMC 91-2, TTC p. 3)
Others told PENs of themselves being casualties, most of which
accounts, like the category exemplified above, have been excluded from this
work. The following story is a model of the type:
When the Gypsum Prince was lost, about a quarter of the
crew, six out of twenty-five, were casualties. They lost the
Captain, the Mate, the Wireless Operator, the Cook, and two
ABs. She went down in less than three minutes, mainly
because she had a cargo of gypsum, i.e. rock. It was 4 March
1942, the U.S. had just entered the war, and there were many
new recruits into the Coast Guard, which had a station a short
distance away. They “tore out” when the alarm was raised, then
thought it a practice drill, as they could not see a ship in trouble
when they arrived -- she had already sunk. Not until they got
further out did they see wreckage. The crew were on the liferaft
only an hour or so before they were picked up by a small Coast
Guard cutter. It could have been worse, but was still “plenty
cold”. Their hair froze. Six made it to the liferaft without
getting wet and they rubbed the others‟ feet to keep them from
freezing. They put their hands inside their armpits to keep them
from freezing. It was just getting daylight.
When they came ashore, they found what gear had been
saved off the ship -- the total for all the survivors -- “you could
pack it in an orange crate”. The American Red Cross provided
them with clothes, but these were of pre-World War I vintage.
The shipping company then sent a bus to convey them to New
York. “If you looked at us you‟d think we were delegates to a
hobo convention.” The company gave each man a month‟s
wages, fare home, and a hundred dollars for clothes, but these
funds were not adequate to rekit them properly.(HMC 91-11, TTC
p. 4)
Newfoundlanders were considered British, and when they survived a
sinking were classed as DBS[Distressed British Seaman]. One such, who had
been on a troopship, was taken to Glasgow, where the crew and troops were
billeted in the Grand Hotel, the largest place available. The vessel which
rescued them had had no food aboard, so they were glad to see breakfast laid
on when they arrived. The girl serving breakfast asked him if he liked
porridge.491 He said he loved it and was brought up on it. She said, “Thank
God somebody likes it!” But he really did like it and did not complain as he
was glad to be there. He was in the very last boat to be picked up and his
name had been listed as “missing”. As he was worried that something might
go wrong, he immediately sent a message home to say he was all right. They
got a message one day saying he was missing and received his reassuring
counter-message the following day.(HMC 91-7, TTC p. 6)
When one Liverpudlian returned home and got in touch with Cunard
after being shipwrecked, he was told they had heard he was dead. He went to
the shipping office and was told he was dead. He said if he was a ghost he
would haunt them if they did not return his discharge book. A similar thing
happened to a friend of his as well.(HMC 92-46, TTC p. 2)
In one interview a veteran seaman described a Norwegian tanker which
had been abeam of his ship in convoy. In peacetime, tankers would always
491
. According to him, British people, especially seafarers, call porridge “burgoo”.
“blow” their empty tanks with air while still in port to clear any accumulated
gasses, but there was insufficient time to get them gas-free in port during
wartime with the quick turnaround. A vessel would have to get out to sea and
blow the tanks off later while in convoy. “Although that ship [the Norwegian]
was empty, she blew up just like a bomb -- in seconds she was gone,
disappeared.” He said all ships had governors on them then, like today‟s cars,
but when their convoy „scarpered‟, they took their governors off and “let her
go”. They were making eighteen knots in a ship that would normally do only
twelve. This may sound nothing to a landlubber, but it was very fast indeed.
Arriving in New Jersey, they discovered that the vibration had loosened all the
bolts holding the engine and they had to spend a week in port bolting it down
securely once more.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 6)
Similarly vivid memories of losses of nearby vessels were retained by a
man who was duty officer aboard in harbour in the Pacific, when there was a
loud explosion about 0700. He dashed out and saw a brand-new Navy tanker,
which had just arrived, being destroyed. Midget submarines had been towed
into the harbour by “parent” submarines and were running amok, blowing
everything in the atoll out of the water. His ship had American “walkietalkies” aboard and could hear all the commotion. Depth charges were
dropped so near that the steel in their tanks was sprung and they began to leak
badly. They were also near a burning ship which was exploding a tank about
every ten minutes. It was terrifying. He thought of the people aboard. There
were about three hundred crew aboard, but 290-odd were saved by firefighting tugs. They did a good job saving the people, but the ship sank. The
whole sky was black with smoke, as it was burning from the bottom of the
atoll and it took a long time to extinguish it. He remembers seeing the last of
the ship as she turned turtle with her phosphor-bronze screws shining brilliant
in the sunlight. She had just come on her maiden voyage.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 3)
b) defensive devices and more rescues
Some men remembered defensive devices. One ship that Gunner
Frank Brown was on had a barrage balloon amongst its defences, and the gas
was kept near his quarters. The ship was in the Mediterranean, and he was
lying in the top bunk, reading, when a big grey thing suddenly went past the
porthole. Thinking they had been in a collision, he ran out onto the deck, only
to find it was the officers attempting to launch the barrage balloon. He yelled
at them to leave it to the experts and due to his state of excitement, his regional
accent was stronger than usual. His shipmates made a big joke of this, saying,
“Brownie soon reverts to „Zummerzet‟ when excited.”492(HMC 92-14, TTC pp. 23)
Torpedo nets were only used once on any ship in which “Tex” English
sailed. That was in the Indian Ocean, just before arrival at the Persian Gulf via
the Euphrates River, which was about forty feet wide and dark brown in
colour.. He said, “Even then Iraq caused trouble, as she was friendly to the
Germans.” The United States had built a large dock to act as the British “back
door to Russia”, and the line-up of Liberty ships was continuous. “It was
HOT!!!!!”493 It was 120o F. and only May or June, not even the hot season yet.
It was so hot the Army “knocked off work” at noon and did not go back until
dusk, but the merchant mariners were out scraping the decks. If you had on
normal thin dress shoes and went ashore in the daytime, you could not stand
still on the sand. There was nothing at all there but mud huts at that time, and
the native workers were nomads who would not normally have been there at
that time of year.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 3)
Large convoys travelled with shallow-draught rescue ships, which were
hard to sink, as torpedoes went underneath them. They picked up survivors. If
no rescue ships were attached to a convoy, the last ship in any column was
492
. He was born and bred in Bath, which was originally Somerset.
. Bandar Shahpur ... “was the port that was famous among seamen for the
ferocity of its heat. It was hotter than New Guinea , and for hours after darkness men still
claimed that they could fry eggs on deck.”(Carse, The Long Haul, p. 186)
493
supposed to pick up survivors, but sometimes they would not do so, afraid of
becoming targets themselves, because enemy submarines would pick off
stragglers.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 1) When one American‟s ship broke down and
was attacked, the British escorts left, but the Canadian corvettes stayed. Bill
Krasnosky therefore, reasonably, has a fondness for Canadians. He was never
in a convoy with a U.S. Navy escort.(HMC 90-7, TTC p. 1)
In a North Atlantic convoy darkness falls early in winter, about four
o‟clock P.M. One respondent‟s ship was detailed to pick up survivors of a
sinking ship, so they dropped out of the convoy, but how were they to find
people in lifeboats in the dark in dense fog? The Captain mustered the crew
on the foredeck and told them to “imagine it was a football match and shout -ROAR!!!!!” They began shouting and eventually heard answering voices; that
is how the survivors were located, having very sensibly tied their lifeboats
together, so they would not become separated. They were taken aboard and
the ship immediately set off to catch the convoy, which by then was well
ahead. Their ship barely missed hitting the sinking vessel as she left, but their
troubles were not yet over. In the middle of the night “there was a terrible
bump, which threw everyone out of their bunks”. Arriving at boat stations,
they discovered they had collided with another ship outward bound from
Liverpool, which had just rounded the convoy and not yet straightened her
course. She then began to sink. They already had one load of survivors and
the weather was appallingly severe. They could hear screams and one lifeboat
had capsized, so men were in the water. They picked up the Captain, frozen to
a lifeboat; another boatload included the Commodore. They saw dead men in
the water, frozen, one a sixteen-year-old boy who had been on his first trip.
When daylight came, to their astonishment, they had the Captain and
Commodore, but discovered the Mate and nine men were still aboard the other
ship, so they sent one of their own boats to remove these last ten from the
stricken vessel. They themselves were holed badly -- “the size of this room” is
how the hole was described -- and were thus compelled to return to Halifax,
Nova Scotia, for repairs.(HMC 92-47, TTC p. 5)
c) near misses and false alarms
Near disasters or false alarms were no less dismaying than actual
calamities, even if they might have been amusing at the same time. Some of
these were related to the conflict at sea, and others to navigational problems
inherent in the convoy situation. Once, when an informant‟s ship was in a
submarine area, they went to action stations and the supposed hostile vessel
was a dead whale,(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 3) but on the 4-8 watch, as the sun was
setting, Ernest Tunnicliffe picked up the glasses[binoculars] and saw a black
spot on the horizon three or four miles astern. It appeared to be a submarine,
so he signalled the escort and later received a recommendation from the
Commodore for good watch-keeping.(HMC 92-40, TTC p. 5) His other vivid
recollection of convoy was as a junior officer on watch arriving in New York
in “coffin corner”,494 where his tanker had been placed primarily so it could
refuel the escorts if necessary, even in bad weather. The seventy-odd ships of
the convoy began to “pile up” on one another coming into the harbour and the
Old Man was below with the other officers. Young Tunnicliffe steered his
ship away to avoid the crush and the escort flashed a signal: “Where are you
going?” He replied that he was slowing, as he did not intend to have a crash.
He could probably have gone full speed astern, but this would have created
havoc, so instead he turned the ship in a 360-degree circle before approaching
the anchorage, and the manoeuvre worked beautifully. There was a great deal
of wartime activity in New York harbour, especially at the loading docks, and
ships had to be timed going in and out, passing the gate ship. Mr. Tunnicliffe
494
. This is the furthest position on the starboard after side of the convoy, so-called
because of its vulnerability. This informant said it was “where subs were most likely to pick
on tankers”. See Chapters Three or Eight for further discussion.
said no wartime voyage could truly be described as “uneventful”, because
there were always problems in convoy.(HMC 92-40, TTC pp. 4-5)
Some near-misses occurred under unusual circumstances. It is difficult
to believe that two vessels, both at anchor, could narrowly escape collision, but
it did happen. A British informant told of such an incident in Freetown
harbour on his very first trip, when he was left alone on anchor watch one
afternoon:
“I remember the tide turned at about three o‟clock in the
afternoon and we swung the opposite way to the ship next to us,
which was an Italian cruiser that had surrendered. Half the
Italian fleet were in the harbour.” He will never forget that
cruiser‟s name, Immanuel Filiberto Duca de Ostre. “And the
damned thing swung the opposite way and I looked at this and I
drew upon my vast experience of ten days at sea and thought
we were going to miss. And we did -- just -- and we were
almost stern to stern like that when the Mate ... came out of his
cabin -- all the cabins opened up onto the deck, the officers‟
cabins. He was sorta rubbin‟ his eyes and looked and his hair
stood on end and he took the bridge ladder in two strides -„Why the ___ bloody hell didn‟t you call me?‟ „But we
missed!‟ Well, he was speechless for a minute and then he let
rip and said „Well you should‟ve called somebody.‟ So I was
summoned to the Captain‟s cabin when I was relieved at four
o‟clock, and he was very good -- Capt. Bligh, funnily enough.
He was only a little fella. He was a big fella, though, was the
Mate, about six foot three ... real hard case Welshman, but
Capt. Bligh was a little fatherly type. „Now, Sonny‟ he said,
„Tell me how did you judge the distance?‟ Well first he said I
should‟ve called somebody, which I already knew. And I said,
„Well, uh, I don‟t know,‟ I said „I just looked at it and, uh,
thought we were goin‟ to miss‟ and uh, he said [rapidly] „Well,
what‟s the length of a lifeboat?!‟ I said „Twenty-six feet, Sir!‟
„Good,‟ he said, „That‟s right.‟ He said, „Well how many
lifeboats, then?‟ Well it‟d be a bit of a squash to get one,
y‟know. We actually missed by about twenty feet, I think. But
all the Captain was interested in was had I realised the
seriousness of the situation, did I think about calling anybody,
which I had, quite honestly, I had, but I decided not to because I
knew they‟d all been on double watches for ten days, all the
officers, doing convoy work.... I made a decision. And it was a
bit too big a decision for a first-trip midshipman, really. But it
was all right, I wasn‟t told off or anything, and we carried on
our way.”(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 2)
Actual collisions with friendly vessels occurred more often than is
usually reported in print and the near-misses, as we have seen, were even more
numerous. Even regular ferry sailings were not immune. After the disaster
when the Caribou was torpedoed and sunk on the run between Argentia,
Newfoundland and Sydney, Nova Scotia, one informant was an Engineer on
the same run when the Mate came down for a cup of tea and told him they
were lucky to be alive. An Allied destroyer had suddenly come out of the fog
at full tilt so close “I could throw a biscuit aboard of her.”495 The warship
would have cut the ferry in two, had it hit her.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 3)
Several PENs concerned bombs which hit vessels but did not explode.
The troopship on which Newfoundlander Tom Burton
sailed was “pretty lucky” on the North African trip until
homeward bound not far off Land‟s End, when it was bombed
by aircraft. Three bombs were dropped, two going over the
side and the other hitting, but not exploding. It went through an
officer‟s cabin on the upper deck, but he was asleep in another
corner of the cabin and escaped with only minor injuries. It
then went down another deck and lodged. Bomb experts
among the troops aboard said it was a time bomb. They then
evacuated the area, which was aft, got a piece of coconut
matting around the bomb, dragged it to the shell door, and
threw it out, still without an explosion. They were lucky.(HMC
91-8, TTC pp. 1-2)
Three bombs altogether were aimed at the vessel in which
Merseyside native Alan Peter was serving. One fell on each
side of the ship and the third hit near the informant‟s cabin,
striking and bending the eighteen-inch wooden deck beam,
although the ship survived. The water tank forward of the
funnel, however, was destroyed. The galley was midships and
it was seven-thirty in the morning. The cook was taking out a
tray of eggs when he was bombarded with soot from the funnel.
The bomb demolished the ship‟s water tank, “danced over” the
lifeboat and thence over the side. “It just skittered off”, but its
tailfins were left behind, as they had only been pop-riveted on.
The label on the fins said it was a 500-kilogram bomb. The
tailfins were landed in Buenos Aires, where they were
auctioned off by the British community there to raise money for
a Spitfire aircraft.(HMC 92-34, TTC pp. 3-4)
While anchored in Greenwich Reach, Wireless Officer, Roy
Caine, in his bed aboard ship, heard a whistling noise. He was
sleeping “all standing” in most of his clothes as was normal in
that situation. He heard a sort of whistling, felt a rush of air,
and felt a thud, but there was no explosion. Thinking they had
been hit, he eventually went on deck, where he found a group of
people clustered around No. 3 hold -- his accommodation was
495
. cf. Keith Marshall, HMC 92-30, TTC p. 7 for similar phraseology, “not a
biscuit‟s throw from shore”.
just abaft this hold. A bomb had hit the ship, but had struck
one of the steel beams across the hatch. It hit on a slant and
broke in two, the nose going down one part of the hold and the
detonator down another. They took the nose part out, removed
the explosives with steam, and he heard it was eventually used
as a collecting box in one of the local hospitals.(HMC 92-62, TTC
p. 3)
One ship had recently been fitted with degaussing gear and was lying at
anchor in Capetown with a full load of aviation spirit when a motorship
moving into the anchorage headed straight for her. The officer on the bridge
had rung “Full Astern”, but the engine had not gone astern, but continued
ahead.496 She collided with the tanker. Fortunately, she had slowed by the
time she struck, but nevertheless bent the “fishplate”, the little section of
plating that rises above the deck and behind which the degaussing gear was
located. It was badly bent, and there had been power running to the gear at the
time, but luckily there were no sparks. The motorship‟s Chief Officer looked
down and wondered why everyone aboard the tanker was panicking. He was
told they were “not loaded with Coca-Cola!” Imagine what would have
happened if a spark had reached that aviation spirit. “It would have been a
bang!” The informant‟s younger brother was aboard the tanker as well, and
their mother had told the elder “You can look after him.” His reaction was,
“But on a tanker loaded with spirit, how much looking-after can you do?”(HMC
92-61, TTC pp. 2-3)
An American Engine Room rating mentioned that he and his brother
were not allowed to ship out together because of five brothers who had all
been killed aboard the same ship in the Solomon Islands. This informant‟s
brother sailed as a Wiper on a World War I “Hog Islander”497 which was
subsequently used as part of a breakwater at Cherbourg. The informant
himself was on another ship in the same convoy, “the largest to cross the
496
. Apparently motorships‟ engines could lock in the ahead position, as cars, when
they are running hot, sometimes cough and spit before actually turning off.
497
. The reader is reminded that “Hog Islanders” were a sort of World War I
standard ship originally built on Hog Island in the Port of Philadelphia.
Atlantic”.498 He said there were “ten thousand ships -- anything that could
float”. It was his observation that men lost large amounts of weight on a
hazardous voyage and that reactions, interactions, and conditions all change
due to wartime and the presence aboard of gun crews.(HMC 90-41, TTC pp. 1 and
3)
d) sensory recollections
In the middle of the night, a tremendous thump on the deck would be a
depth charge499 from an escorting destroyer. In daylight, one would see a
column of water rise.(HMC 92-38 , TTC p. 2) One interviewee sailed in a convoy
which was attacked by a U-boat off the Portuguese coast -- after the war was
“supposed” to be over. “There was a great shemozzle amongst the escorts and
an ol‟ „whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop‟ as they went chasin‟ after him and he
ran himself aground on the Portuguese coast, so that was the end of him. Yes,
we had quite a chase.”(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 5) Several other informants described
escort vessels on submarine alert, circling around the convoy, dropping depth
charges, with their sirens whooping. “And it‟s such an exciting sound, like a
pack of dogs, y‟know?”(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 2)
One informant‟s memories of sounds had nothing to do with sounds of
combat. In the Indian Ocean, going from Durban to Port Tewfik, he had “one
of the most delightful experiences of my life”. Big liners would bring troops
to Durban, where they were discharged and put aboard smaller ships for
shuttling to their final destination. These small troopers would leave Durban
in a small, fast convoy of eight to ten, circled by six to eight escorts. In the
middle there was always a battleship or heavy cruiser, and near the Equator on
498
. It is interesting to note the large number of informants who state that they have
sailed in either the largest or the smallest convoy of the war. I am certain that all who made
this statement believed it implicitly and that it was not a “sea story” made up for my benefit.
However, it was not deemed necessary to extend the research to ascertain the factuality of each
situation or the relative accuracy of any given statement.
499
. The thump would be evidence of the depth charge exploding.
Sunday mornings, in good weather, she would steam up ahead and drop back
between columns one and two and reduce speed; the columns were only 2000
yards apart. The Marine Band on her deck (“About eighty pieces? It seemed
like an awful lot.”) would play English patriotic songs and the troops would
cheer and sing along. “And boy, the most stirring event possible.” You could
hear the troops cheering and singing “half over the Indian Ocean, amazing!”
When she had dropped astern of the convoy, she would steam up between
columns two and three, then drop back again between three and four,
constantly playing martial airs. “Boy, „twas something to behold. I don‟t
know if I‟ve ever heard, seen anything as, quite as stirring....”(HMC 91-4, TTC p.
6)
One of the most bizarre experiences relayed during the interviews was
that of a Newfoundlander aboard a troopship. The main body of troops were
not told their destination; only important officers knew, otherwise it was kept
secret. Going through the Red Sea at night on the blacked-out ship, the
informant could hear people talking and saying “yes, b‟y, no b‟y”.500 “I
thought golly, this fellow got to be from Newfoundland, no doubt about that....
... So I listened for a time and I went over. ... I said, „You fellas gotta be from
Newfoundland or you speak that Newfoundland lingo, y‟know.‟ „Yes, b‟y!‟”
He discovered they were from near his home and knew his sister and her
husband well. They chatted all the way through the Red Sea, but he never
found out who they were. He never saw their faces because of the blackout
and asking their names would have been a breach of security.(HMC 91-7, TTC
pp. 5-6)501
500
. They were unmistakably using Newfoundland dialect; using the typical term of
familiar address, “boy”, pronounced “b‟y”.
501
. Note also discussion on stringent security measures in North America and
elsewhere in Chapter Six.
Despite the fact that the bulk of their data dealt with the North Atlantic
runs, nearly all the men interviewed had, at some time or other, sailed
elsewhere. Some, in fact, had never made either the “Western Ocean” or the
North Russian runs at all. This led to insights about a number of other areas,
which were so appealing as to warrant their inclusion. At least two of the
interviewees who had been through the Suez Canal and the Red Sea, described
the dust storms and sandstorms there as unforgettable, one said it had
resembled a thick fog, and another said the sand was an eighth of an inch thick
on the deck after the storm he experienced. The term “a sandstorm at sea” or
“a duststorm at sea” was always used to characterise such a phenomenon.(HMC
89-1, TTC p. 3; HMC 90-20, TTC p. 1)
Ernest Tunnicliffe said there was so much
sand in the air off the Sahara it produced false horizons and such, making strict
accuracy in navigation impossible.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 5) Harvey Watson had
never seen sandstorms at sea, but said the Suez Canal looked like ships
steaming straight through the desert, as one could not see the water from any
distance.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 3)
A Deck Officer recalled a trip in a Pacific island convoy which was
“pretty fast”, travelling at perhaps sixteen knots. His ship, an old C-1 standard
type, could only manage fourteen-and-a-half knots. As a result she was unable
to zigzag and had to run the baseline course instead, with the entire crew
crossing their fingers. At night, when the convoy was blacked out, nothing
could be seen, but they could smell the islands, the earth and the
vegetation.(HMC 89-1, TTC p. 1)502 When questioned in later interviews, few had
experienced this phenomenon. One informant said it could probably be done
if one were close enough, jestingly adding that it would be even more probable
if the odour in question were that of copra.503 The other informant in this joint
502
. Emerson Chodzko, HMC 89-1, TTC p. 1, verified by Capt. Fred A. Steele, my
stepfather, who was also aboard this vessel.
503
. Copra, a dried coconut product used in the manufacture of soaps and toiletries,
is renowned for a powerful and unpleasant rancid odour.
interview situation said the wind would have to be blowing in the appropriate
direction, but that he himself had never noticed any such olfactory
phenomena.(HMC 89-5B, TTC p. 4) Another said that one of the fascinating
things in the Pacific was the number of islands you passed. You could sail for
days or weeks on end, but there was always an island to see.(HMC 92-41, TTC p.
2)
One interviewee shipped on a passenger liner whose captain was
chronically seasick. The Staff Captain had to take over for three or four days
every time they left harbour.(HMC 90-58, TTC p. 3) This corresponds to
information given me throughout my life by family and friends, most of
whom, career seafarers, say that on their first day or two at sea after a period
ashore they are always seasick to some extent.504 A Royal Navy Wireless
Operator interviewed evinced pleasure that his ship was with an escort force
two-thirds of its time at sea, because with a convoy they did a gentle six or
seven knots and rolled, but did not pitch much. Out with the fleet, they did
fifteen or sixteen knots and it was Hell, especially in a rough sea. It damaged
not only the ship, but the men‟s bodies as well; most destroyer men have
internal problems to the present day because of the pounding and the
frequency of vomiting -- this has been verified by medical personnel. The
informant is always upset by people who claim to be “good sailors”, because
under the right (or wrong?) conditions anyone will be seasick. The difference
between “men” and “boys” is that the latter “lie down and die”, while the
former simply keep going and ignore it. He does not believe people who say
they are not affected by the sea, but agrees with others that seasickness is most
often suffered at the beginning of a voyage. Once his ship, after being at sea
for some time, struck a hurricane with winds of 104 MPH and no one was sick,
504
. Clint Johnson, Harold Squires, and Capt. George Bryson gave similar testimony,
all of which is cited earlier in this chapter.(HMC 90-24, TTC p. 2; HMC 91-9, TTC p. 1; HMC
92-66, TTC p. 1)
although all were battered. There is no need to be a “bad sailor” though. One
can do things to reduce the effects of seasickness, such as staying on the upper
decks, watching the motion of the sea, and eating moderately.(HMC 92-20, TTC
pp. 5-6)505
Nearly anyone who has spent much time on the water, including
yachtsmen and recreational divers agree that one should never sail with either
a totally empty nor an overfull digestive tract506 and the two most highly touted
preventatives for mal de mer are dry crackers507 and/or Jamaican ginger beer.508
Nor is nausea a respecter of rank. The naval informant just quoted also told
about King George VI using their vessel when inspecting the fleet. They tried
to keep the motion gentle, but the King, who had been a midshipman during
World War I, nevertheless had to call for the “Royal Gash509 Bucket”(HMC 9220, TTC pp. 5-6)
Wartime was very trying on all aspects of the health of professional
seamen -- not only the physical, but the mental and emotional as well. After
two years of war those who were qualified officers noted many regular crew
had been lost and their ships were now manned by people who were not real
sailors. The “new bods” were “cunning fellows” who had managed to keep
out of the Army, not the good, able professional seamen to whom these
officers were accustomed. There was “a lot of riff-raff” in crews toward the
end of the war, but they simply had to be tolerated. Many proficient men were
505
. Beck, 307, notes that despite the fact that seasickness is almost always taken
lightly, it is quite capable of being fatal. “Salt water, dry biscuits, tea, pickles and dried fish
are all suggested remedies, and the sufferer is always advised to steer clear of sweets.” He
remarks as well that beyond the truly helpful, there are always a few who make suggestions
calculated to increase, rather than alleviate nausea.
506
. Although one ship‟s Cook said, “Don‟t eat anything and you won‟t get
seasick.”(HMC 90-22, TTC p. 2)
507
. Once on a destroyer in Havana at the dock and another time when he was bridge
lookout, John Klocko was very seasick, but the officer in charge thought he was shamming.
On Navy ships, saltine crackers come in boxes like egg crates. Klocko learned to eat saltines
or hardtack to keep from getting seasick.(HMC 90-64, TTC p. 2)
508
. These panaceas are generally accepted. My stepfather originally told me about
the crackers, which I have tried and found efficacious. Personal friends of mine who have
sailed or dived in the Caribbean say ginger in any form, but especially in the Jamaican ginger
beer formula.(Various personal conversations with Kim Dyer, recreational diver, and Dr.
Winifred Lloyd-Smith, diver, anaesthetist and specialist in diving medicine).
509
. The term “gash” is universally accepted amongst British seafarers to refer
generally to disposable garbage and specifically to vomit.
in the Royal Navy Reserve and had been taken off the merchant ships and
replaced by uncertificated officers. Those with more skills had to “carry” the
others who were less qualified, and it wore them down. It was not an easy job
by any means. The RNR men had the best of it; they were taken into the Navy
before the RNVR, who were usually bankers and the like, not seamen, having
joined the Navy as a “hobby” during peacetime. All were eventually called up,
however. You could walk off a cargo boat with a certificate and immediately
become the navigator of a huge battleship. “The CO would be damned glad to
get a professional who knew his job.” Most merchant marine officers were
drafted into the Navy as navigators, since there was no easy electronic
equipment in those days, and all was done with a magnetic compass. They did
recruit “a lot of good people”, though. Merchant vessels got three Wireless
Operators instead of one, and three signalmen, one for each watch, as well as
lots more trained gunners. By the end of the war there were as many defence
personnel aboard as there were working crew.(HMC 92-38, TTC p. 3)
e) storms at sea
The magnificent primordial face of Nature herself seems to strike a
responsive chord in the souls of many seafarers. In Shipping Out we are told,
“It must be...that the vastness of sea and sky, the crowded or uncrowded
conditions under which we live, the infinite concept of time and space,
influences the way we think.”510 This may well be the case, as several
informants have averred that the most memorable thing about their seagoing
lives was this very vastness of the sea, the sky, and Creation in general and the
feelings of awe and human insignificance with which it left them. It is also
notable that many of these same individuals mentioned the middle watch (124) as their favourite, citing the solitude and the feeling of being in complete
control of the ship‟s destiny and their own as being the definitive aspects of
510
. Sherar, 17.
that choice.511 David Grover, not only seafarer, but academic and author as
well,512 said first that he was often in convoys which were dispersed by storms
and that “storms seemed to be our worst enemy.” He tried to absorb culture
wherever he went, but did not get into the really interesting European ports
until after the war, although “when you‟re eighteen and seeing the world for
the first time, it‟s all interesting.” The sea itself was a fascination in all its
moods, especially when violent. He pronounced the North Atlantic gale
“worst (or best)”, and followed a poetic description of the same by the factual
information that under normal conditions the ship might be capable of 260
miles per day, but in some storms they could manage no more than about
seventeen. The most memorable thing for him was the fury of the storms and
the wild weather. Despite fright, discomfort and misery, it is awesome.
Among memorable things, he listed: the first sight of land after a long
crossing, aromas and other things that affect your sense organs, such as sights,
sounds, smells, etc. These are experiences which cannot be duplicated, even
by artistry.(HMC 90-3, TTC pp. 1 and 4)
An Armed Guard had similar recollections of storms. He felt that
generally life in convoy was not too bad, except you had to be cautious; it was
basically uneventful. They “listened to beautiful American music played by
German radio” but he does not know if it was “Axis Sally”.513 There was very
rough weather in the North Atlantic, and attacks; submarines were sunk trying
to get into the convoy, but the men aboard his ship did not know about the
latter until they reached Baltimore, as they were in the centre of the formation.
The worst thing was the storms which dispersed the convoy at night. They had
to regroup the following day and it took until noon to get back to the full
511
. Favourite watches are the subject of the next section.
. Capt. Grover for some years headed the California Maritime Academy and has
written or co-authored at least two books on nautical topics, specifically dealing with the
period here investigated.
513
. Axis Sally, like Lord Haw-Haw and Tokyo Rose, was a radio “disk jockey” who
interspersed music with propaganda. Hers was aimed primarily at young, vulnerable North
American servicemen and merchant mariners.
512
cruising speed of seven knots, then at sunset it would begin all over
again.(HMC 90-4, TTC p. 2)
3. favourite watches
Among the most notable memories of their lives at sea, most of the
men interviewed during the fieldwork recalled what “watch” or work shift they
preferred and for what reasons:
“The 8-12 were workin‟ men; they were done by half past ten. The 124 could do no more; they packed their bags and went ashore. The 4-8 did their
best; they were tough just like the rest.”(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 3)
The merchant seafarer in the Deck or Engine Department typically
works on a three-watch system, often described as “four on and eight off”.
This means the eight hours of the active working day are divided into two
four-hour shifts, with eight hours of [nominally] leisure time between them.
Each twelve-hour half-day period consists of a “twelve-to-four”, a “four-toeight”, and an “eight-to-twelve” watch.514 Those whose work time is eight in
the morning to twelve noon have a second shift from eight in the evening to
midnight, and so on.
The Catering Department did not employ the watch system, but were
“day workers” whose hours of productivity sometimes exceeded the statutory
eight. Bakers and Confectioners on troopers or passenger liners began their
working day well before dawn, but usually finished in mid-afternoon. Cooks
and Chefs, of course, worked around a regular schedule of mealtimes.
Stewards and Waiters did likewise, but often began and ended work fairly late
or had an hour or two of break time between meals. Catering Department
514
. This is the only place in this work where the watch times will be written out in
full. Elsewhere they will appear in the form of numerals separated by hyphens.
“Boys”515 (Galley Boy, Pantry Boy, Cabin Boy, Bellboy, etc.) and Utility Men
could work to any schedule demanded by their superiors, but usually began a
normal working day no earlier than five or six in the morning and finished no
later than nine or ten at night, whatever they did in the interim. They then had
all night off and started again in the morning.(HMC 92-10, TTC p. 3)
Military seafarers, both gunners stationed aboard merchant ships and
sailors on escort vessels sometimes had a slightly different schedule of
watches, either “watch and watch” -- a much more active system of four hours
on and four hours off round the clock, resulting in a twelve-hour day -- or a
rotating “dogwatch” system whereby the 4-8 evening watch was divided into
two halves and the men‟s work hours changed daily, resulting in a ten-hour
day and providing no chance to fully adapt to any given set of hours. Two
respondents who volunteered for the Maritime Regiment516 from the Territorial
Army and served as military gunners aboard merchant vessels agreed gunners
stood the same three watches as merchant seamen, but one mentioned that
guns were manned twenty-four hours a day and the other added that in a
particular trouble spot, they might stand four on and four off -- “watch and
watch”. The only real difference was that gunners‟ duties were the same for
the entire four hours of their watch, while merchant seafarers‟ would
vary.(HMC 92-12, TTC p. 1 and HMC 92-14, TTC p. 5) Both “watch and watch” and
the revolving “dogwatch” system were extremely fatiguing, but both were
standard practice in the Armed Services and were also frequently applied to
youngsters in training for the Merchant Service through cadetship or
apprenticeship programmes. If a convoy was under immediate threat or when
necessity required maintaining “action stations” over lengthy periods the rest
of the merchant crew were sometimes obliged to adopt these systems as well.
515
. As stated previously, the names of all three shipboard Departments and of all
ranks and ratings will be capitalised in this work to provide definition and prevent confusion.
516
. Properly Maritime Royal Artillery.
Some men go to sea who never should. This rating,
however, loved to look out at an empty sea and a star-filled sky
-- his favourite job was as lookout, because he was all alone
and his only contacts were the Mate and the steersman. When
asked his favourite watch, he replied that he was often “stuck
with” the 12-4 as a late arrival signing on at the last minute and
grew to like it; that the 4-8 was best, sometimes called the
“Money Watch” with more overtime and less work. The 8-12
is not bad, either, but the 12-4 was rough.(HMC 90-37, TTC p. 3)
The attitude of cadets who stood such enervating watches was summed
up thus:
Of course the first watch was the best one -- the 8-12, the
Master‟s Watch, and that was the watch that I sailed on always
as a Third Mate. That was the Third Mate‟s watch, so the
Master could always come out, „cause y‟know, in case the
Junior got a bit above himself or didn‟t quite know what to do,
he was always on call. ... But when I was an apprentice, of
course, we were four on and four off at sea, „cause the
apprentices did all the steering of the ship, and it was a question
of the watches were changed over in the dogwatch, you know.
So one day we'd be on the 4-8 in the morning; the next day
we‟d be on the 12-4 and so on, but we were never in our bunks
for longer'n three and a half hours at a stretch. And, uh.... So
we didn‟t get very much sleep as boys. I was always tired.(HMC
91-1, TTC pp. 2-3)
An Engineer, however, said on a diesel-powered vessel the atmosphere
in the Engine Room, especially on the 8-12 watch, was bad, being heavy with
fumes. This, at least was true of the two hospital ships in which he served, as
they had no proper extractor fans, but had to depend upon the natural draught - the ventilators turned with the wind, but if there was no wind it was
suffocating. Men on the 8-12 watch were better off spending their afternoons
on deck than getting a nap. At least this was true on a passenger ship. On
cargo ships one did not disturb anyone‟s deck games. But fresh air was better
than sleeping in most cases.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 3)
Radio/Wireless Officers were the “odd ones out” because, at the
outbreak of hostilities, ships were required to carry only one and they were
“day workers”. Of course wartime regulations forbade radio transmission
from vessels except in the direst of circumstances, but there was an urgent
need to monitor incoming broadcasts on a twenty-four hour schedule. Soon
the complement was raised to two and they did a sort of “watch and watch”,
slightly modified to suit their particular needs, but eventually three operators
per ship became mandatory and from that time on for the duration they stood
much the same watches as the rest of the crew -- four hours on and eight off.
There was not really a rule as to which Radio Officers took which watch. A
Senior R.O. would often take the 4-8, as it was the most dangerous. It did not
matter very much about the other two, but he usually asked the more
experienced of the two juniors to take the 12-4 and the least experienced was
thus usually left with the 8-12, when the Senior was around to supervise his
work. This was probably fairly standard procedure. This informant‟s
favourite watch was the 4-8, as he had developed a routine of sleep around that
watch, although it did not really make much difference which one he had.(HMC
92-15, TTC p. 5)
Most seafarers on the three-watch system, however, had a distinct
favourite and, although this was not one of the questions asked in the initial
interviews, it became more and more seductive as the project went forward,
because of the reasons given for the preferences. In the latter stages of the
North American fieldwork and throughout the British research it became
established as a routine inquiry -- “What was your favourite watch, and why?”
Only a few said it did not matter. The junior watch-keeping Deck Officer,
usually the Third Mate, relieved all the other watch-standing Deck Officers for
meals, and so did more than his own 8-12 shift, which might make a choice of
watch irrelevant.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 6)
Those ten or fifteen men who said they favoured the 8-12 watch
generally spoke as if they were the only ones with common sense, as this
watch provided nearly a full night‟s (eight hours‟) sleep, from midnight to a
little before eight in the morning. “If you came off at midnight, you could
generally go to sleep, just turn in after having a „lunch‟[snack]. But if you
came off at four in the mornin‟, you‟d be „chewing the rag‟ with the rest of the
crew and then suddenly it was eight o‟clock and you‟d have to go on watch
again at four in the afternoon.”(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 5) One man chose the 8-12
for a decent night‟s sleep, but said it could vary. He sometimes liked standing
watch at night, because of the feeling of being completely on your own, but he
did not like the 12-4.(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 3) Another thought the best time at sea
is when you are Third Mate and have the 8-12, although he enjoyed taking star
sights on the 4-8. He found it difficult to sleep when on the 12-4, especially
on ships with passengers. There was too much noise.(HMC 92-30, TTC pp. 1-2)
Two others agreed with this opinion, one characterising the 8-12 as more
“normal” and again, like most of this group, disliking the Second Mate‟s
watch, the 12-4. He said he used to leave his pyjamas on under his clothing
when he went on late night watches in cold weather. That kept him nice and
warm when returning to bed.(HMC 92-36, TTC p. 6 and HMC 92-49, TTC p. 4)
The Junior watch is the 8-12. That's the “make-y‟-learn” watch, and is
given the junior officer (Cadet, Apprentice, or Midshipman) -- “It‟s really the
Captain‟s watch, so if there‟s any difficulties, the Captain‟s there anyway.”
The middle watch or graveyard watch is the Second Mate‟s, as he is
considered sufficiently experienced to handle it alone, and the Senior watch is
the 4-8, which is the Mate‟s.(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 1)517
Herbert Taylor described the 8-12 as “the most natural watch for
sleeping”, but said if you wanted to “get time in," the 12-4 was good, because
every other watch counted toward another day‟s pay.(HMC 92-11, TTC p. 1) One
chap, who spent much of his sea time as Third Mate, found similar problems
to those mentioned earlier in this section, although he did choose the Third
517
. The Chief Officer, First Officer, Chief Mate, or First Mate are all terms for the
same rank, but casually, even when there are several grades of Mate aboard a vessel, only this
rank is entitled to be called “Mate”.
Mate‟s watch, the 8-12, as his favourite, “because you got a night‟s sleep.”
The problem was that you also had to relieve everyone for meals, which meant
you had to start by relieving the Mate at 0700 for breakfast and then the
Second would relieve you. You would continue on your own watch until the
Second had had his lunch -- about 1245 -- and then had to go and relieve the
Mate on the 4-8 for dinner at night as well. Apart from that, he liked it. As
apprentices they had a rotating watch, like seamen with a dog watch in the
afternoon, and they also did “daywork” (chipping, scraping, etc.) and stood
watches at night. The first watch was the dog watch, 4-6.(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 7)
Another ex-Cadet agreed about the 8-12, again because of the regular sleeping
hours, but echoed that on the coastal run his ship was on they spent a lot of
time “four on-four off with a dog watch.”(HMC 92-60, TTC p. 2)
Perhaps the most articulate of those who disliked the 12-4 was the man
who described it as the “death watch”, rather than the “graveyard watch”. He
said on the 4-8 “you‟re always under the Mate‟s eyes. That was the Chief
Mate, y‟know. On top o‟ that, it was early in the morning and it was in the
break time, 4-8 at night, y‟know. And you‟re betwixt and between. Whereas,
like, when you come off the 8-12, you got all that afternoon, y‟know what I
mean, to.... I think the 8-12 was generally favourite of all watches. I didn‟
like the 12-4 at all.... Oh, there‟s some people, like they say, same‟s ashore
here. I can‟t believe it, like I hate nights!”(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 4)
Most officers and a few ratings who preferred the 12-4 paeaned the
peace, freedom, and solitude of the late-night period when they had no one to
answer to but themselves, no one looking over their shoulders. They were
alone and felt in sole control of both the ship‟s destiny and their own. John
Dalgleish expressed their collective opinion by saying that during the 12-4 you
were on your own, the ship was at peace, and it was the most perfect time he
can think of in his life.(HMC 92-23, TTC p. 2) Three others agreed, but
mentioned broken sleep patterns as a disadvantage. Capt. George Bryson
summed it up, however, by stressing the freedom they felt. “You were there,
you were in charge, you had the whole...it was all quiet and...mind you it was
nearly as quiet in the afternoons as it was during the midnight to four A.M.
watch. It was a hard watch, put it that way, but at the same time you, you
never got a full eight hours‟ sleep or anything like that, but it was probably the
best watch, because of that.”(HMC 92-31, TTC p. 3; HMC 92-51, TTC p. 1 and HMC
92-66, TTC p. 2)
Some ratings, however, had more mundane reasons for preferring the
“graveyard” or “middle” watch. “Johnny” Johnston did not care much for the
4-8, “which was most people‟s favourite”. He liked the 12-4, because he got
plenty of sleep and plenty of overtime before noon.518 “Nobody liked the 812.” Although the Engine Room differed from the Deck Department in
preferences, the 8-12 was never popular, especially on tankers, as there was
never time to go ashore in the evenings when in port.(HMC 90-66, TTC p. 1)
“Tex” English had labour-related concerns as well. His favourite watch was
the 12-4, before “weekends off” were permitted at sea. On the 8-12 you had to
work Saturday mornings.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 6) One staunch British trade
unionist surprisingly said the 12-4 gave a superior sleep pattern. You came off
at four A.M. and could sleep until called to eat lunch before going on watch at
noon. You then finished at four P.M. and had a long break before midnight.
You got unbroken sleep, mostly in the morning. You might catch an hour or
so in the evening, but not often.(HMC 92-69, TTC p. 2)
Three other British ratings chose the 12-4 because of the custom, not
universal, but fairly widespread amongst British ships, of providing that watch
with the ingredients to cook their own breakfast.519 Two of them, however,
518
. Emphases mine.
. See Chapter Seven for details of the “black pan” tradition and how it correlates
to this custom.
519
mentioned the unpleasant system of “field days”520 as well, whereby eight
hours beyond the fifty-six of a seven-day week would be required of each
seafarer.
Well, in my day, in the first couple of years as a Messroom
Boy and Cabin Boy, I wasn‟t on watch. I was a day-worker,
from six o‟clock in the mornin‟ till about six o‟clock at night.
But when I went on Deck, I came under the three-watch system.
... But my favourite watch was the graveyard watch, as we used
to call it -- the 12-4 watch. And the reason why it was my
favourite watch is that we used to come off watch at four
o‟clock in the mornin‟ and instead of havin‟ to get up at eight
o‟clock in the mornin‟, we used to do a deal with the Cook on
the ship and he used to leave our breakfast out in the galley. So
when we came off watch we used to cook our breakfast at four
o‟clock, well, the standby man‟d start cookin‟ it half past three
in the mornin‟ and, when we came off watch at four o‟clock,
we used to sit down to our breakfast, which used to be anything
he could lay his hands on. ‟D be what was specifically issued
by the ship‟s cook, or what we could lay our hands on. In other
words we‟d be fryin‟ chips and onions and what have you
and.... All this was unofficial, actually. You were supposed to
turn out at eight o‟clock in the mornin‟ if you wanted your
breakfast, but we used to have ours at four o‟clock in the
mornin‟ when we came off watch. It‟d save us gettin‟ up at
eight o‟clock unless we were on what y‟ call „field days‟ ...
because there used to be two days a week in those days on
Deck, in the Deck Department, where y‟ used to work four
hours, that was from eight o‟clock in the mornin‟ till twelve
o‟clock, what y‟ call „field days‟. Used to do that twice a week.
Y‟ didn‟t get paid for it -- it was hours to be worked which y‟d
sign for when you‟d sign the Ship‟s Articles.(HMC 92-50, TTC p.
4)
“I liked the 12-4, strange enough”. There were two
situations. On a passenger ship you finished your deck work,
washing down, etc., about three [P.M.] and could go to the
bakeshop and get goodies such as ice cream by “doing a little
panhandling”. On a cargo boat, you were often allowed to cook
your own breakfast -- not necessarily, but the Cook would leave
something out and you could cook it and you tended to make a
better breakfast -- sometimes stole a few spuds, etc. The 4-8
was called the graveyard watch and he always felt he had got up
very early and was always tired. But the 12-4, although he
would be in his bunk at eight P.M., he would know he would get
some sleep when the other fellows got up. And things were
more peaceful during the night. You were always opposite the
Second Mate, who was more relaxed. The Chief Officer was
your boss, the working boss on cargo boats, and the Captain,
who was rather intimidating, came out on the Mate‟s watch.
The 8-12 was always manned by the Third Officer, but he also
520
. See below in this section for a further discussion of “field days”, “rope-yarn
Sundays”, “housework”, and other such systems of extracting more work from seafarers than
that for which they were actually paid.
had the Captain down his neck, so on the 12-4 it was peaceful
during the night and seemed to be happier. It is hard to say
why, it was just sort of built in, but many will agree. The
Second Mate was always very popular on the ship, because he
had less responsibility of working you. “When he became a
Mate, he prob‟ly changed; he‟d be a son-of-a-bitch, but usually
he was gen‟ally a pleasanter fella and you got more leeway with
him probably.” He might even have a cup of tea and make you
a sandwich. The Second was more relaxed. And of course, if
on the 12-4, you would be on the 12-4 in the daytime. The
Chief Officer would have gone to bed and you only had to
worry about the Bosun. It was nicer. But when Barney Lafferty
first started to sea, they were not on four on-eight off, but four
on-four off. They used the dogwatch system then, which
“revolved” the watches and broke them up a bit. Then
everything revolved again, because in 1937-1938 they brought
in the sixty-four-hour week. You did four on-eight off, but
twice a week you had to do two twelve-hour days known as
“field days”. This lasted quite a long time -- through the war
actually. They eventually got four on-eight off. That was the
reason for one of the big strikes. Sixty-four hours work a week
was ridiculous, but he can remember when you had to do even
more than that. It lasted until, when most nations were doing
four on-eight off, the U.K. was still on the sixty-four-hour
week.(HMC 92-54, TTC p. 8)521
“I used to like the 12-4, funny enough -- the middle watch,
that's the worst one, but I used to like it. ... To be quite truthful
the 8-12 you had to work on deck as you know, and the 4-8‟s
daybreak and you had to start on deck, washin‟ down, so.... No,
I‟d never liked washin‟ down [...too much supervision...] Only
in the afternoon, mebbe, it might be a nice, sunny...you get a bit
of a tan while yer workin‟, but you only done a few hours „fore
you went on the wheel, see, so...12-4 at night, that was
smashin‟.” On a very slow coal-burner from Capetown to
Fremantle which spent five weeks at sea at one go, they came
off the 12-4 and “someone‟d get into the galley and we‟d get all
our own food and cook it and we used to have -- believe it or
not weren‟t so bad at four in the mornin‟ -- eggs, bacon, chips
... I can‟t believe it now that I used to eat like that y‟know. And
you used to sleep yer head off till the next watch at twelve
o‟clock, y‟know, what you call the seven bells watch -- twenty
past eleven.” It is different in the Merchant Navy. Seven bells
is twenty past eleven, but in the Navy it is half eleven [11.30].
Strange.(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 2)
The numbers of those questioned who preferred the 8-12 and the 12-4
were almost equal, but there was a very slight plurality who fancied the 4-8.
521
. Seafarers‟ International Union member, “Johnny” Johnston, told of a similar
system among American companies. There was no such thing as overtime in those days.
Homeward bound you were asked if you wanted to make another trip. If so, you had to do
unpaid “rope-yarn Sundays”. Also some ratings were not paid for Saturdays, but had Sundays
off. Often these men were required to work two homeward-bound Sundays on maintenance.
This was called “housework”. If a rating told the Mate he did not want to work Sundays, he
would be told not to bother signing on for the next trip.
Those who shared this predilection appeared to base their choice on the fact
that they were often able to view both sunrises and sunsets and some who were
bored with most watches noted that during the war this was the time when Uboats were most likely to attack, therefore providing more tension and
excitement. One, for example, always tried to get the four-to-eight watch,
which was sometimes called “torpedo time” or the “torpedo watch”.(HMC 9044, TTC p. 3)
Another stated that his favourite watch was the 4-8 in a manner
that implied there could be no other. After some discussion he admitted the 812 might be all right as long as watches were “broken” in port.(HMC 90-67, TTC
p. 6)
A third liked it because you could come off watch, have a smoke and a
cup of tea or coffee, then turn in and get a good sleep between 2200 and
0330.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 4) A man who was then a junior Engineer, once more
brought up the subject of “field days” and how they prevented you from
getting a full six to eight hours‟ sleep, by breaking it into two stages, but added
that between two and four in the afternoon in such cases, “everything would
stop” while the watchkeepers took a siesta. Also, the 4-8 watch officer, the
Second Engineer, like his Deck Department counterparts, did not have to do
meal reliefs, where the men on the other two watches did. As top man on
watch he would get relief for his evening meal without having to give any. He
says “field days” were nasty; they did not happen on a fixed schedule, but one
could always be given such jobs on short notice.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 3) Another
said he liked them all. “I liked the 4-8 watch I guess as good as any one.” On
the 4-8 you had the chance for evenings ashore in port and did not have to get
up quite in the middle of the night.(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 3) A Deck Officer
attributed his fondness for his favourite watch to familiarity. “I think the 4-8,
mebbe because I spent more time on it than any other watch. I got to be Mate
and I stayed as Mate for thirteen years.”(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 1) A letter from my
stepfather concurred:
My favourite watch was always the 4-8 -- sunrise -- sunset.
Star sights morning and evening. Off all day -- 8A[sic] - 4PM - chance for a nap and best of all a relief for supper. The third
mates took turns doing the relief and made some $20 for each
one. When real young and needing the practice I liked the 8-12.
I took evening star sights for practice and when I got better
results than the 2nd[sic] Mate I made points.522
This was also the watch which drew the most poetic and artistic
allusions; several of its proponents waxed quite lyrical about it. Alan Peter
cited the Mate‟s Watch [4-8] because you saw the dawn and dusk and sunrises
and sunsets at sea were beautiful, especially in the Tropics.(HMC 92-35, TTC p.
2)
Rex Rothwell, a cadet most of the time, said you were on four on-four off
when in action, so there was little time for anything. Officially it was four oneight off, but watches were doubled on the Murmansk run and there were
attacks in between them. He slept nearly seventeen hours straight on arrival in
North Russia. He preferred the morning watch, the 4-8, not necessarily in
Northern latitudes, but certainly in Southern, because you watched the dawn
break over the sea and it was marvellous. The worst was the middle watch,
the 12-4. He was surprised to hear some liked it, as it meant broken sleep. To
watch the dawn break over the sea, especially in the Eastern hemisphere, “is
really something marvellous” especially if it is flat calm and you are just
cruising along, it makes you feel good. “Field days” or other extra day work
depended. A Chinese crew was a good thing for an Apprentice in those days,
as he would not be allowed to work under a Chinese Bosun. It would be
different now, he supposes, but then an Apprentice was always glad to work
with a “coloured” crew, because the Bosun was not allowed to boss him and
he had a much easier time.(HMC 92-72, TTC p. 2) One of the most lyrical
plaudits for the 4-8 came from Capt. H.G. Skelly who glorified the dusk and
dawn watch by saying “If anything can make you religious, it is to be in the
South Atlantic and watch the dawn come in over a calm sea, without many
clouds -- to watch the constellations going out and the sun coming up. All that
522
. Personal letter from Capt. Fred A. Steele, dated Monday, October 24, 1994.
did not just happen; it had to have been created by divine movement
somewhere.”(HMC 92-39, TTC p. 5)
The most touchingly emotive statement, however, came from a tough
hard-bitten old rating. Describing being on watch at night, when it was calm,
he said, “It gives you a stupid spiritual feeling. Wonderful! You can‟t explain
the sensation with the bow wave in front and the wake behind. This is what
draws a man back to the sea. It‟s best at evening.”(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 2)
C.
REASONS FOR LEAVING THE SEA
As has been mentioned earlier in this chapter, two basic groups
emerged from the sample interviewed during the research. The first was made
up of career seafarers and the second, more transitory, sailed during the war,
but ceased their seafaring careers at its close. Many of the former group began
with formal training in academies or apprenticeship programmes.523 The vast
majority of these either remained at sea until retirement or left the sea in their
middle years to embrace shoreside careers in callings related to merchant
shipping, thus maintaining strong ties to their seagoing beginnings. The
second group entered the Merchant Service “for the duration” (“Hostilities
Only”) and left the sea at the war‟s close or soon afterward, most taking up
shoreside jobs completely unrelated to seafaring. A significant number of this
group apparently would have preferred to continue sailing, but felt unable to
do so because of consideration for family duties.524 Many of these young men
had only recently married and their new brides wished them to stay at home
once the obligations of wartime service were no longer imperative. Others,
especially those with young families, wished to maintain firmer familial
contact during their children‟s formative years. A few who might apparently
have been destined to be simply “war-time sailors”, however, became so
attached to the seafarer‟s lifestyle that they advanced through the ranks and the
conduct of their later occupational history tends to parallel that of the
“intentional” career men, in that they either sailed until retirement or took up
shoreside jobs in maritime-linked fields.
523
. See footnotes 18. and 20, and 23, this chapter and pages 145-146 for further
information on these terms.
524
. “Tex” English intended to make the merchant marine his life‟s career until he
got married and had a child a year later. His wife did not want him to leave. He kept shipping
out periodically, though, until he finally “swallowed the anchor.”(HMC 90-74, TTC pp. 1-2)
His three sons all went into the U.S. Navy. Shipping after the war until about 1950 was very
good. “You‟d just walk up to the hall, throw in your cards, and get a ship.” This was
especially true just after the war ended, as many men left the merchant marine at that time, and
they were quite short-handed. Many said they would have stayed, were it not for wives and
families. “Tex” would love to do another trip.(HMC 90-75, TTC pp. 3 and 6)
The British sampling seems to have produced the majority of career
men, while the more transient segment appear to be part of the North
American group. British seafarers tended predominantly to have followed in
the footsteps of family or neighbours, to have considered the sea their only
viable career option or interest, or to have been placed in a seagoing career
from an orphanage or other public institution. A fairish proportion appear to
have remained at sea until retirement because they felt they had nowhere else
to turn, their training having been limited to seafaring and the security of a
steady job being highly desirable, especially with the experience of the Great
Depression ingrained in their memories. Licensed or certified Engineers were
the most likely to simply walk away from the sea, as jobs ashore were not
terribly difficult for them to find. This was also true of many of the trained
Catering staff, who could find employment in hotels and restaurants ashore.
Three-fifths of the men interviewed gave full and detailed answers to
the question “How and when did you leave the sea?” A third of these ended
their seafaring careers because they wished to please wives and families,(HMC
92-11, TTC p. 1)
slightly less than a third came ashore, but continued to work in
fields related to the shipping industry, and somewhat more than a third
continued to ship out until retirement. Less than ten percent gave up the sea
because of illness,(HMC 90-57, TTC p. 3; HMC 90-62, TTC p. 1; HMC 92-45, TTC p. 1
and HMC 92-63, TTC p. 1)
half of these due to problems resulting from the
hardships they had endured as prisoners-of-war.(HMC 90-58, TTC p. 1 and HMC
92-23, TTC p. 1)
One interviewee who left the sea because of health problems said if he
had not become ill he would still be sailing, but after twenty-three years at sea,
he knew when he had had enough. His wife‟s attitude toward his sailing was
that it was just another job. “When I married her she knew I was going to
sea.” She, herself, during the interview, said, “He was doing what he liked to
do and I was always on a honeymoon. ... It was when he retired that the
honeymoon ended.”525 They had been married forty-two years at the
time.(HMC 90-62, TTC p. 1)
Most of those who had spent any lengthy time as prisoners-of-war,
ceased sailing on their liberation, even if illness was not a factor.(HMC 92-47,
TTC p. 1)
One who did not, on his release from prison camp at the end of the
war, went back to sea until retiring in about 1987, although he did marry. He
went back to sea for financial reasons -- getting the most money for doing the
job. “If you were at sea after the war, and single, you were getting more pay
than at any shore job. Then, once married, you could not afford to give it up.”
Most who started their working life at sea learned one specific job, except
Engineers, who could work anywhere ashore. Most of the others were not
trained for shore work. Oh, a Purser could become an accountant.... Most
stayed at sea because of the money, others because they were unskilled for any
shore work; perhaps a few because they liked it. This respondent said he did
not like it and would never want to be a yachtsman. Although he and his wife
are both Liverpudlians, no one else in his family has any association with the
sea. His father was a coal miner and later a college caretaker.(HMC 92-22, TTC
pp. 1 and 4)
His opinions were countered by another, who went to sea as a
Junior Engineer in 1934 and continued in Marine Engineering until his
retirement. He said at the time he went to sea you were lucky to get a job and
you clung to it. An Engineer was not like a deckhand or Catering rating, who
could go from ship to ship as they chose, although some companies kept
regular men, but Deck Officers, Wireless Operators, and Engineers were hired
by the company itself.(HMC 92-42, TTC pp. 1-2)
525
. It is worth noting that my late mother similarly stressed the “unending
honeymoon” aspect of her relationship with my seafaring stepfather. An echo of the same
sentiment is found in Hope, The Seaman‟s World, 90.
Only two interviewees from the Engineering Department came ashore
and went into land-based engineering jobs, one with the California State
Department of Transportation,(HMC 90-26, TTC p. 5) and one, after twelve years
at sea, returned to a shore position with the Newfoundland Railway. This
latter, however, remained in positions related to Marine Engineering for the
rest of his working life, as the company ran a fleet of ships as well as its trains
and the office job of Engineering Superintendent was the Engineers‟
equivalent of Port Captain or Marine Superintendent.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 2)
Those who left the sea for family reasons were outspoken on the
subject. One, who had intended to make the sea his career, but got married
and settled down instead, said, “It‟s no life for a married man, but some won‟t
give up the money, others just love the sea.”(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 2) From the
other side of the Atlantic came a similar response, from a man who, at the
war‟s end, “came ashore, married, and lived happily ever after”. He had
decided if he married he would give seafaring, as he envisaged too many
family problems if he continued to sail, but he enjoyed his time at sea and
would encourage anyone to go -- for adventure and “The University of
Life”.(HMC 92-34, TTC p. 7) Another, who “swallowed the anchor”526 in the
mid-1950s said he had done so because “my kids didn‟t recognise me when I
came home” and in addition he felt his prolonged absences were unfair to his
wife.(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 5) A third married in 1954, well after the war, when he
was thirty-five, and came ashore in 1965 because his daughters were growing
up. He was then forty-six and had spent nearly thirty years, most of his
working life, at sea.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 1)
Several interviewees had “shifted from foot to foot” a bit on first
forsaking the sea, before eventually settling to a life ashore. When the war was
526
. The reader is reminded that this is common usage for leaving the sea
permanently.
over, one Wireless Operator took a job at Cabot Tower in St. John‟s,
Newfoundland, with the old marine radio station, and stayed for nine months,
but “the sea was in my blood” and he signed on for one more voyage. When
he paid off527 that one, he took a job with the Canadian Federal Unemployment
Insurance Commission, where he spent thirty-eight years until his retirement.
He basically came ashore because he had married and wanted to settle down.
It was 1949 and Newfoundland was just becoming part of Canada through
Confederation.528 He was actually looking for the Department of Veterans‟
Affairs, to see if merchant seamen had any benefits due, when he got his first
government job.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 2)
None of those interviewed who sailed as members of the United States
Naval Armed Guard, DEMS (Defensive Equipment Merchant Ships) gunners,
the Maritime Royal Artillery, or sailors aboard escort vessels continued at sea
after their demobilisation at the end of the war or shortly thereafter, although
most were required to be registered as members of Reserve Forces for a certain
period thereafter. In the case of the Royal Navy Reserve this involved
retaining a full kit and keeping the Admiralty advised of their current address
and employer. Employers were required to sign a quarterly statement to verify
that the individual was indeed working there and that they would release him if
necessary to the national defence. The scheme also called for each man to
return to his home depot for two weeks‟ training update each year, but in at
least two cases this never occurred.(C. Fowler and J. Bennett, HMC 92-64, TTC p. 2)
527
. The term “to pay off”, rather than “to be paid off”, is the accepted nautical
parlance. A ship “pays off” at the end of a voyage and each of her crew “pays off” as he signs
off her Articles and walks ashore. For an officer, hired by the company, the term would
usually indicate coming ashore permanently.
528
. The reader is reminded that Newfoundland and Canada were different countries
during the wartime period. When one Newfoundland respondent came back “across the Gulf”
he had been ashore in North Sydney [Cape Breton] and spent almost two years in the Canadian
Merchant Service, but: “They were lookin‟ all over town for me -- as a „foreigner‟ -- I wasn‟t
allowed in.” For eighteen months he had regularly gone ashore from the coastal vessel on
which he was working, but when he came off the Canadian Merchant Service, he was a
“foreigner” and Customs was looking for him. He was given twenty-nine days to leave before
facing imprisonment as an illegal alien.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 8)
One military interviewee, who paid off his last ship in August of 1945 and left
the Navy in 1946, recalls most vividly his experiences on V-E Day, when his
ship was in Rosyth, near Edinburgh. There were so many ships there that the
Lord Provost demanded some put to sea, despite a howling gale, to avoid
having too many sailors in town during the celebrations. Even now, when this
sailor sees scenes of people rejoicing and dancing in the streets on V-E Day,
he feels aggrieved.(HMC 92-20, TTC p. 3)
Only one or two of the sample interviewed actually terminated their
seafaring careers during the war by joining the Armed Services, and never
returning to merchant shipping.(HMC 91-1, TTC pp. 1-2; HMC 92-10, TTC p. 2 and
HMC 92-71, TTC p. 1)
These, however, maintained an interest in the sea
throughout their lives, one taking up sailing dinghies for some years as a
hobby(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 2)529 and another collecting ships‟ photographs and
reading maritime literature to keep in touch. The latter‟s sons followed him to
sea, and at least one is still an active seafarer.(HMC 92-10, TTC p. 4) All of these
were from the British sample. A few of the United States informants joined
one of the Armed Services after the end of the war in order to realise the
veterans‟ benefits which were then unavailable to merchant mariners(HMC 9075, TTC p. 6)530
and one made a career in the United States Coast Guard, which
allowed his U.S. Navy and merchant marine (U.S. Naval Reserve) time to be
counted toward his “longevity”.(HMC 90-45, TTC p. 2)
Although one informant had trained between 1929 and 1932 as an
officer in the Merchant Service, he joined the Army just prior to the outbreak
of the war and never returned to merchant shipping. First he undertook
celestial navigation in desert situations and then went back to sea with Special
529
. Cf, however, James Crewe, who was adamant that he would never espouse
yachting as a hobby.(HMC 92-22 ,TTC p. 4 )
530
. Marty T. Hrivnak, Sr. felt it probably would have meant good pay and good
retirement to stay in the Merchant Service, but came ashore, did his Army time, and then got a
shoreside job and spent seventeen years in the Army Reserve.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 4)
Operations Executive, first using MTBs (Motor Torpedo Boats)531 to infiltrate
agents into mainland Europe, then parachuting into France to work with the
Maquis, and finally sailing a Tamil schooner as a “Q-ship”532 until the atomic
bomb was dropped and “spoilt my war completely”.(HMC 91-1, TTC pp. 1-2)
Surprisingly enough, two British respondents who left the sea at the
war‟s end or shortly thereafter finished their working lives as career members
of Merseyside police forces.(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 1 and HMC 92-61, TTC p. 3) One,
Welsh by birth, felt he coped with the strain of coming ashore by handling
dockside matters in the police force, thereby retaining contact with his former
life.(HMC 92-61, TTC p. 3)533 Another surprise was that two informants left the
sea to go into teaching. One, a Senior Radio Officer, “swallowed the anchor in
1945-46, but coughed it back up again in 1974”, sailing on and off for about
eight years more. When he came ashore in March of 1946, he took a teacher
training course and taught for twenty-five years, then left the educational
profession and went back to sea, feeling he “couldn‟t take teaching any
more”.(HMC 92-16, TTC p. 4) The other spent about a year at sea as a Cadet, but
abandoned the programme and sailed a further four years as a rating in the
Deck Department. He came ashore immediately at the end of the war,
married, trained as a teacher, and made that his life‟s work.(HMC 92-24, TTC p.
1)
Of those informants who remained in merchant shipping until
retirement, most of those with officers‟ rank stayed with one company
throughout. In the case of the Merseyside group, this was usually either Blue
Funnel Line (Alfred Holt and Company) or Thomas and James Harrison, as
those were the two leading companies still operating out of Liverpool at the
531
. The British Royal Navy‟s equivalent of the United States Navy‟s “PT Boat” and
the German Kriegsmarin‟s “E-Boat”.
532
. “Q-ships” were armed military vessels disguised as harmless merchant craft and,
according to Mr. Arnold, sometimes used for intelligence purposes.
533
. See full quote in Chapter Six, Section A.
end of the war. Speaking of the ubiquitous nature of the Harrisons‟ firm in the
Liverpool area, one ex-Master said, “Put a ship in any road in Wallasey and
blow a whistle -- she‟d be manned inside a day. Every other person had
someone at sea.”(HMC 92-38, TTC p. 1) At least one Liverpool respondent,
however, was with Elder Dempster throughout his career.(HMC 92-68, TTC p. 1)
Typical of those who left the sea, but continued in associated fields, was
another ex-Master, who said he had always intended to make a career of the
sea, war or no war. That was the original intention and he was at sea for
thirty-nine years, so he believes he achieved that objective. In 1980 he came
ashore as Marine Pollution Control Officer with the Department of Trade, then
became a Nautical Surveyor in 1981 until he retired in 1990 at the age of sixtyfive.(HMC 92-66, TTC p. 1) A third did not retire until he was seventy-two, but
did some night-mating534 immediately after he came ashore, although he had
completely severed all ties with the sea by the time of the interview.(HMC 90-1,
TTC p. 1)
One Chief Engineer married late in life at age forty-five, but did not
quit the sea until he was sixty-five. He could not quit, he said with a grin,
because his wife did not make enough money.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 3) Yet
another ex-Master, who had retired approximately fifteen years prior to the
interview, described the differences in retirement regulations between the
Masters‟, Mates‟ and Pilots‟ Union535 and the companies. As he received a
company pension, he did not know if he could have sailed “out of the union
hall”536 after his official retirement. He then discussed the decline of the
534
. A North American idiom for what the English call “relief-mating”, the term
indicates that the job is equivalent to a sort of executive night watchman, although the hours of
employment may occur during the day. In home ports regular officers come ashore and this
temporary authority is hired by the company and placed aboard to act in their stead while the
vessel is tied up.
535
. Masters‟, Mates‟, and Pilots‟ is the guild for Deck Officers in the United States.
The British equivalent is NUMAST, the National Union of Masters.
536
. Like the British Merchant Navy “Pool”, the American union hall served as a
seafarers‟ hiring office. Officer or rating went to his own union hall, where available ships and
berths (jobs) were posted or announced, handed in his discharge book, and was assigned, in
order of seniority and of registration, to the next available vessel. Ratings were hired by the
individual vessel, certificated personnel by the shipping company. This was known as sailing
or shipping “out of the Pool” or “out of the union hall”.
United States Merchant Marine and expressed the hope that the pension fund
would prove sufficient.(HMC 90-54, TTC p. 3)
A Liverpool man, who served aboard ship as a Baker, likewise had a
financial concern. He came ashore for nine postwar years, as the result of a
labour dispute. When he returned to sea he sailed for several different
companies before leaving the sea completely. Asked to take voluntary
redundancy,537 he at first refused, but assented to a second request. He
received five hundred pounds redundancy pay for twenty-nine years at sea,
when dockers and miners were getting £1800 to £2200 for a much shorter
working life.(HMC 92-9, TTC p. 2)
It is worth briefly noting the upgrading system for Deck Officers.
Newfoundlander, Capt. Tom Goodyear, upgraded on the British system,
studying for a British ticket, but finally taking Canadian examinations. The
only difference he could see was that one set of examinations used pounds,
shillings, and pence as its monetary standard, while the other used dollars and
cents. The British and Canadian Shipping Acts were virtually the same. His
goal was always to get a Master‟s certificate, Foreign-going. In the United
States it is called “Unlimited”. In the British system, once you obtain the
certificate, you have it forever unless it is revoked for a serious cause, such as
incompetence or malfeasance. Up until the present, “Once you got a Master‟s
ticket, that entitled you to take any ship, British ship, any part of the world.
It‟s equivalent to your Unlimited Master‟s licence.” At the time of the
interview it was not necessary to renew the certificate once you had it, but
Capt. Goodyear said a law requiring regular renewal was “in the works”,
which he considered a sensible precaution. Some of his friends once held
British or Canadian certificates and later had to get United States licences
537
. “Redundancy” is the British term for what North Americans would call “being
laid off”.
which are renewable every five years, often requiring a brief period at an
upgrading school to ensure that one‟s knowledge and skills are “state of the
art”. Capt. Goodyear considers this a good idea.(HMC 91-4, TTC p. 5)
Typical cases of “lifetime” officers who finished their careers in shore
jobs associated with seafaring included one who came ashore briefly on his
marriage in 1947, again when his first child was born in 1952, and finally, in
1954, became a tugboat captain and docking pilot in Savannah, Georgia.(HMC
90-50, TTC p. 1).
Another came ashore immediately after the war, to avoid
uncertain scheduling, and discovered there was not much demand for his
skills. He resigned, retrained, and went into Industrial Relations and now
works for the Federal Government on the Maritime Labor[sic] Relations
Board, specialising in maritime health and safety.(HMC 90-59, TTC p. 2) A third
spent five postwar years as a pier loading superintendent. About 1950 he was
offered a job as a ship‟s captain, but turned it down, and the company
terminated his contract. He then spent a year in marine insurance until the
Korean War started and he “got itchy feet” and went back to sea.(HMC 90-63,
TTC p. 5)
His last trip to sea was a four-and-a-half-month “round-the-world”,
in 1959, which he is glad to have made. He finished up with two other
informants in the Maritime Safety Program of the U.S. Bureau of Labor[sic]
Standards.(HMC 90-64, TTC p. 4)
Another Captain came ashore in the late 1950s, when he took a trip off
to get his Delaware River pilotage licence and was thereupon offered a job as a
ferry captain, which he took, piloting a 1300-passenger capacity ferry between
Chester, Pennsylvania, and Bridgeport, New Jersey, where there is now a
bridge. He also spent some time piloting ships in the Delaware for the Sword
Line with a Reading Railroad tug. Then he went back aboard a Liberty ship in
Seattle. The Maritime Service next asked if he would come and teach in the
Maritime Service Institute, but then Eisenhower closed all the Maritime
Service except “The Point”538 and the mariner returned to the sea. He believes
the President should have closed the Point and kept the rest.(HMC 90-67, TTC p.
7)
A Canadian ex-Master set up his own Marine Surveying firm.(HMC 90-69,
TTC p. 1)
One Newfoundlander left the sea in late 1952. He was thirty-two,
had been married six or eight years, and the ship on which he was Chief
Officer and Relieving Captain was running regularly into St. John‟s every
fortnight, when he was transferred to a luxury liner to obtain big ship
experience. He sold his house in Newfoundland and made arrangements for
his wife and two sons to move to New York. When he sailed, they were all set
to make the move. The ship arrived in New York, and he, his bags packed and
at the gangway, was having breakfast, when a messenger boy appeared with a
letter from the St. John‟s Harbour and Pilotage Commission, appointing him
as a pilot for the Port of St. John‟s. He wrote a letter of resignation to the
shipping company on the spot and came ashore. “That was the end of my
seafaring career.” It is interesting to have met someone who came ashore by
achieving his own goals, rather than to please someone else. “Well, things just
-- things fell into place. And o‟ course these opportunities come once. If you
don‟t grab it then, you‟re stuck forevermore.”(HMC 91-6, TTC p. 1)
A British Captain finished with the sea about the end of 1965, when his
company “folded” in a general shipping decline and he joined the North
Atlantic Conference Organisation, dealing with economic consultancy and
pricing structures. Still involved with shipping, although indirectly, he
continued to travel a lot in his work, promoting turnaround speed, and the like,
and finishing his career as Container Superintendent for Manchester Lines on
the Canadian trans-Atlantic trade.(HMC 92-5, TTC pp. 6-7) Another, however,
after serving his apprenticeship, remained with Harrison Lines until retirement,
coming ashore to work as a Marine Superintendent in the company offices in
538
. The American Merchant Marine Academy at King‟s Point, New York.
1973 after shipping out for thirty-three years, and retiring in 1986.(HMC 92-33,
TTC p. 1)
Although many ex-mariners stay in maritime-related pursuits, one
recently received a card from an ex-shipmate, an ex-Master, originally from
British Columbia, who now looks after a golf course in Nova Scotia.(HMC 9111, TTC p. 5)
Of the ratings who made merchant shipping a lifelong career, a few
followed patterns similar to the officers‟ and came ashore to sea-related jobs,
usually in shipyards,(HMC 92-11, TTC p. 3; HMC 92-44, TTC p. 4; HMC 92-49, TTC p.
2 and HMC 92-57, TTC p. 1)
TTC p. 1)
on the docks, (HMC 92-44, TTC p. 4539 and HMC 92-58,
or in river and coastal shipping,(HMC 92-32, TTC pp. 6 and 1) but one
was asked in 1951 to become an official with the National Union of Seamen540
and remained in that capacity until his retirement, operating either from
Liverpool or Birkenhead.(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 6)541 Those who continued to sail
as ratings until retirement sometimes characterised the up-to-date vessels
“with all mod cons” as being unpleasantly lonely.542
The most unusual case was that of a rating who admitted he had left
the sea in a “funny way”. He saw a lot of action in the war, including
bombings and such, and spent six days in a lifeboat in 1942. It was no big deal
though. Afterwards it was just “„R and R‟,543 go home, look for another ship”.
In 1945, when the war with Japan ended, he was at sea in a tanker. Lights
were allowed on at sea and there was some end-of-war hysteria. Our man
539
. Tom Killips “drifted in and out a lot”, getting some good shore jobs, but then
dumping them and going back to sea. He worked on the docks and at Cammell-Laird‟s
shipyards for a while, but “couldn‟t stand it. Once you‟ve been at sea, that‟s it. You wanna
get out.”
540
. Well after the war, the NUS merged with railway unions to form the RMT (Rail,
Maritime and Transport [Union]).
541
. For those unfamiliar with British geography, the city of Liverpool and the town
of Birkenhead, both major ports, are on opposite sides of the River Mersey which forms the
harbour that serves both.
542
. Jack E. McGinty, HMC 90-37, TTC p. 3. See Chapter Six on conversation as
recreation.
543
. This is a widely used term derived from military slang and standing for “rest and
recuperation” from the demands of active duty.
vowed he would jump ship at the next port and did so in Melbourne with
several others. That was not the end of it. The ship had a quick turnaround;
the captain swore out an affidavit; the deserters were taken to court, given a
token sentence of about a fortnight, and invited to settle in Australia. This lad
got homesick in a few months, so picked up a ship for Liverpool. On arrival,
he put his book into the Pool for rehire, but the records showed a bad
discharge with “Decline to Report” stamped under conduct and ability. This
was called a “Burndown”, and essentially meant he was blackballed from the
Merchant Service for the remainder of his working life. The three grades of
stamp are “Very good”, “Good”, and “Decline to report”. He never shipped
out again.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 1)544
One of the men who had shipped first as an orphan and had actually sat
and passed the examination for his Second Mate‟s licence, said he had come
ashore in the 1950s because, after sailing tankers and cargo ships he had
realised545 no matter how many tickets he got, he would still have to go to sea.
He had seen the skippers with whom he had sailed constantly drunk, leading
empty lives, despite being fine seamen. Others were pathetic, “crawling on
board and crawling off the ship”. One skipper, while on the bridge, flung all
the charts and navigation equipment overboard and the respondent had to get
the Apprentices to see him safely to his room. He did not see that as a viable
way of finishing his career.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 7)546
Between shipping out for the first time and “swallowing the anchor”,
nevertheless, each man interviewed had years of seafaring experience which
could be broken down into a multitude of group and individual relationships,
which will be examined in the following chapter.
544
. See also Chapter Five, Section C, for a further discussion of this system of
grading the performance of ratings, both in North America and the United Kingdom.
545
. As can be seen by the previous testimonies, this opinion is not entirely accurate.
546
. This theme will be developed further in Chapter Six, Section A.
Chapter 5
Shipboard Relationships
Aboard any merchant ship during World War II there were various
types of interpersonal associations essential to the life of any working seafarer.
Some of these were on a group, and others on an individual level. There were
those connections which were extant in peacetime as well, such as the
relationship between the three shipboard “Departments”, Deck, Engine-Room,
and Catering/Stewards‟.547 In addition to these connections, traditionally
unstable since the inception of steam had brought the “black gang”548 to rival
the rigging-climbing, rope-splicing deckhands, there were also associations
between the certificated or licensed personnel, universally known as officers,
and the general crew or ratings. These interactions between “management”
and “labour” had become more strained since the Great Depression of the
1930s and since major trade union movements had begun to organise the
seafarer along with his proletarian brothers and sisters ashore. This area had
further political overtones in North America pursuant to the widespread fear of
socialism/communism in all its aspects of classless broad-mindedness, which
were also linked to trade unionism.
Furthermore, there were racial, national, ethnic, and cultural groupings,
interactions between which were becoming more and more strained as
society‟s predilection for racially integrating North American crews became
547
. This Department is generally known as the Catering Department in the British
Merchant Service and as the Stewards‟ Department in the United States Merchant Marine.
What it is called by Canadians generally depends whether they have been more closely
influenced by their British roots or their American neighbours.
548
. The term “black gang” has been traditionally used to refer to Engine Department
ratings, because of the likelihood on early coal-fired ships, of their being blackened with coal
dust. Only recently has it begun to appear “politically incorrect” to the land-based public, and
it will be used in its original sense throughout this study. The ratings involved were Firemen,
Oilers (known as Greasers in Great Britain), Watertenders and Wipers. Coal-fired vessels
divided the Firemen into Stokers and Trimmers.
stronger. British crews were more ethnically varied, though the lines of
demarcation drawn by class (officers vs. ratings) and between Departments
were more fine and distinct than they were on North American vessels.549
Racial and class tensions were compounded as expatriate Allies of different
cultural backgrounds began to lose their own vessels to enemy action and
thereafter to ship more frequently than before aboard British-, Canadian-, and
United States-flag ships. Lastly, but certainly exerting no less pressure on
nervous systems already over-stressed by the wartime environment, there were
relationships between naval escort crews, military gunners stationed aboard
merchant ships to man their armaments, and civilian crews who were
conducting the day-to-day business of the merchant vessel herself, persevering
-- albeit in more trying and irregular circumstances -- with the tasks they, or
others like them, had done before the conflict started, and would continue to
perform after its cessation.
Apart from group relationships, there were those relationships between
individuals which exist in every social situation. Some individuals
automatically took pleasure in one anther‟s company, and others just as readily
felt a mutual antipathy. There were those whose personal feelings as
individuals toward groups were mirrored in their actions and in some cases
may have affected larger groupings aboard. And throughout the war there
were stresses brought on by the conflict in which they took part, which
affected the men themselves both as individuals and as members of larger
bodies, and influenced their actions and reactions with one another. The
enforced intimacy of shipboard living sometimes increased tensions, but it
could also cause men to take the situation into account and reflect before
acting too precipitately. One of the interviewees said, “Everybody depends
upon everybody else at sea.” He then explained that “if you do not do your
549
. This is expanded in Section D of this chapter.
job, it means someone else has to do it, so people who are idle or seasick do
not get much sympathy, but people do „knuckle down to it‟”.(HMC 91-1, TTC p.
5)
The man with prewar experience sailing aboard tramp cargo vessels often
impugned the “Western Ocean sailor” who only went back and forth across the
Atlantic on a liner, considering himself by far the latter‟s better in all aspects
of seamanship. Liners running between Europe and North America were often
pejoratively labelled “ferryboats” or “floating hotels”, and it was clear from
the testimonies of those interviewed that the tramp sailor considered himself to
have superior knowledge of his craft. Even the fact that mammoth passenger
vessels such as the Queen Mary and the Canadian Pacific Railway Empresses
were often called “boats” and cargo tramps more frequently “ships” is an
indication of the attitude of the seafarers who manned them. To this day some
Liverpudlians speak with contemptuous amusement of the “Cunard Yanks”
who, after a single trans-Atlantic circuit, affected American accents and
manners.550
About “Western Ocean sailors”, Tom Thornton said, “No,
they weren‟t seamen [on liners]. They were only ferry boats
between New York and England. They didn‟t have to do -there was very little splicing, or wire-splicing, or, whereas
y‟know you had to „do, make, mend‟ on the tramps and the
tankers and all that, where everything‟s already sorted out
ashore for them and it‟s just fitted on ... All they were doin‟ on
the big ships was just holy-stonin‟ the decks y‟know and
keepin‟ watch and that was it, y‟know, and lookin‟ pretty at
times, y‟know....”(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 8)
It was generally believed before the war, that a man who
sailed too much in passenger ships was not a good sailor. “It
was common knowledge [if?] you‟re a „Western Ocean sailor‟,
and my own grandfather which‟s a very keen seaman, and my
father, they had this built into them that ... they really believed
to be a proper sailor you had to rough it to do everything and
you would see jobs on cargo ships which you wouldn‟t be
called upon to do in a passenger ship, y‟see?” Splicing wire,
handling derricks, and so on were not done on passenger ships.
“Yet it wasn‟t completely true, because the passenger ships did
have derricks and that, y‟know. It was just a belief. I think it
musta come through from the sailin‟ ship days, y‟see.”(HMC 9254, TTC p. 8)
550
. I was reminded of this term and its meaning by an unknown young man from
Liverpool with whom I struck up a conversation on a Sheffield city bus 20 January 1995.
During the war, men who had been to Murmansk considered
themselves vastly superior to first-trippers, and deservedly so, but sometimes
they were overly inclined to be curt or uncivil with novices. One respondent
shipped with a veteran seafarer, who was asked by a first-tripper whether they
would use the Panama Canal or the Cape Horn route to reach the Pacific. The
irascible old-timer called him an idiot and only apologised for his brusqueness
when another shipmate interceded as peacemaker.(HMC 90-26, TTC p. 1)
The stresses of wartime could cause some people to undergo a type of
shell-shock or battle fatigue. “Tex” English became friends with one of his
shipmates -- “Tex” considered him “old”, so he must have been about thirty at
the time -- who “got nutsy” towards the end, taking a metal bar and saying he
would hit the relief with it if he (the relief) did not “sing out” loudly when
coming on watch. People were nervous then.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 6) The people
you remember most are the real characters, not the average ones. How you are
treated or, especially, mistreated is what you remember -- degradation,
dehumanisation. Capt. E.S. Wagner, a Canadian, remembered “the real
bastards” and recalled saying he would never act like that himself under
similar circumstances.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 6)
Bill Kirby expressed the feelings of the majority of Second World War
seafarers by avowing that, although the war was terrible, there was a lot of
companionship and many pleasant things happened as well as the awful ones.
He never knew, he said, that people could be as bad, or as good, as they were
until that time. His memories were generally pleasant; the bad things were the
specifics, the “one-offs”; the people were good.(HMC 90-13, TTC pp. 3-4) The
overwhelming bulk of the interview data corroborated this perspective. The
most frequent response to questions about specific relationships was “They
were fine. We always got along well. There were never any problems on the
ships I sailed in.”551 The four sections of this chapter will examine
representative remarks of this sort as well as the few which contradict them
Seamen‟s perceptions of self and shoreside attitudes towards seafarers
will be covered in the following chapter, but there is one attitude which does
not properly fit within any of the rubrics here, or in Chapter Six, but which
cannot be ignored in a study such as this -- the response to homosexual
shipmates. Although homosexual tendencies in seamen have been the subject
of legend, joke, and song throughout the history of the occupation, there is no
indication that they were any more prevalent aboard ship than in the landsman
population. It is curious, however, to note that during a period of time when
male homosexuality was anathema to society as a whole and when somewhat
violent homophobic responses might have been expected from men restricted
to living with one another in relatively confined spaces, this does not appear to
have been the case. Several informants mentioned “gay” shipmates, but their
comments were framed more in humorous tolerance than fear, anger, dislike,
or censure. Despite the free and casual air with which they discussed such
persons and their behaviour, however, no respondents indicated any such
proclivities themselves and it was always made abundantly clear that active or
observable homosexual behaviour was displayed by only a very small minority
amongst ships‟ crews at that time.(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 3)552 The
Stewards‟/Catering Department bore the brunt of the reputation in both North
America and Great Britain, perhaps because the traditional Cabin Boy was
found therein. Max O‟Starr, in Pacifica, California, said Stewards were
apparently all considered “sissies” in the early days,(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 2) and
551
. Samples of such brief responses can be found in the following data -- HMC 9027, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-63, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-2, TTC p. 1; HMC 92-22, TTC p. 1; HMC 904, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-14, TTC p. 3; HMC 92-33, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-45, TTC p. 1; HMC 9044, TTC p. 4; HMC 90-59, TTC p. 2; HMC 91-9, TTC p. 4; HMC 92-31, TTC p. 1; HMC 9247, TTC p. 2.
552
. Those gay men I know who are currently sailing make a point of keeping their
romantic lives ashore and their working lives aboard in two separate boxes, much like their
heterosexual shipmates.
Joe Cunningham, in Skelmersdale, Lancashire, after saying there were no
female Stewards except on big ships, said male Stewards were often thought
of as “faggots” or “Nancy boys”. Some actually were, he said, but mostly it
was only a joke or a “yah-boo”,553 and they called the other sailors names back,
as well.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 4) O‟Starr went on to tell about four “limp-wrists”
who had signed on one vessel at Los Angeles and obtained preferential
positions,554 but one jumped ship in Auckland where he had “found
friends”.(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 2) Don Gibbs recalled arriving at a port in British
Guiana where a man jumped ship for a girl, allowing Gibbs instantly to
upgrade. This information was accompanied by the remark that “a young
native girl apparently looked better to him than the Cabin Boy”.(HMC 90-40,
TTC p. 1)
This was tossed in as a humorous “aside”, and does not necessarily
indicate that the man in question was actually involved in intimacies with any
other member of the crew, but it does give an inkling of the lack of concern
with which such behaviour was viewed. Another informant said there did not
seem to be any homophobic response to gays and the crews were more amused
than shocked or insulted by „campy‟ behaviour.(HMC 90-15, TTC p. 2)
Hank Adams recalled a homosexual Deck Engineer [Donkeyman] who
had a “boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever you call it” aboard. The Deck
Engineer was allowed shore leave in Liverpool, while his “partner” had to
remain aboard. Adams said the latter “stopped right up there at the top of the
gangway and he stomped[sic] his foot and he said, „Now I s‟pose you‟re gonna
go ashore and go with some common thing!‟” This testimony was given a
comic “stage camp” delivery, but without apparent animosity, perhaps even
553
. “Yah boo” or “yah boo sucks” is a somewhat outdated but widely recognisable
British schoolboy expression of derision. In this case the implication was that the association
of homosexuality with the Catering Department was more blason populaire than anything else.
554
. One of them became “Captain‟s Boy”, but this merely means he looked after the
housekeeping duties in the Captain‟s quarters, and does not indicate that he and the Captain
were engaged in a more intimate relationship.
with a little sympathy, although Adams did say the Deck Engineer himself
“didn‟t fit in very good” aboard.(HMC 92-14, TTC p. 2)
On my return journey to the U.S., I met a man who had been a seafarer
for most of his working life, and he said “all” Stewards were “bent as a
budgie‟s wing”, although the word “gay” would be neither used by nor
acceptable to a seaman, especially at the time of World War II.. He had,
however, once sailed with a Steward known as “Spangles”, who had been a
war hero, although “as queer as a clockwork orange”. At the evacuation of
Crete, this “Spangles” had been a member of the A-turret gun crew on one
vessel which continued firing their weapon until retrieved by Mountbatten.
This might well be a testimonial to the fact that a person‟s sexual proclivities
do not necessarily affect her/his performance in the line of duty, even in a
tense battle situation.
Contemporary authors of maritime non-fiction have also noted the
merchant seaman‟s tendency to broad-mindedness toward homosexual
behaviour. In The Atlantic Star, David Thomas reports:
...some of the P &[sic] O passenger ships were converted to
Armed Merchant Cruisers at the beginning of the war. Some of
the stewards were gay and had to go in the merchant navy pool
for ratings. Two of these were drafted to the [Empire]555 Opal
as officers‟ stewards. During the voyage out they were
challenged by the crew to show their „party dresses‟ but they
chose to stage this event one afternoon when an American
escort vessel was trying to come alongside to take an oil fuelline. The US commander was on the loud hailer[sic] when the
two stewards appeared on the tanker catwalk in evening gowns,
fur coats, full make-up and jewellery. I think all the convoy
heard the „Jesus Christ! Hard a port‟[sic] as the Spencer
sheared off. What the Americans thought of the British seamen
can only be imagined ... but then you have to be a bit queer to
serve on petrol tankers in wartime!556
Despite the fact that the Merchant Service consisted of “citizens of the
world” and was far more advanced in tolerance than the shoreside
555
. The brackets here are Thomas‟s.
. Thomas, Atlantic Star, 146.
556
community,(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 2) there were sometimes, inevitably, situations
when animosity arose between individuals for various reasons. When these
reasons are germane to the theme of a specific section, the exempla will be
placed there, but there is one which cannot be so located:
A Second Cook consistently persecuted a frightened young
Scullery Boy, from an inland home, leaving the lad perpetually
in tears. One day, when the Cook was leaning into the flour
bin, the boy, pushed beyond his limits, hit him over the head
with a frying pan. The rest of the crew, especially the
Stewards‟/Catering Department, upheld the youth‟s right to so
defend himself, the informant describing the inhumanity which
precipitated the incident as “hunting elephants with a BB gun,”
meaning the Second Cook had provoked a prodigious reaction
on the younger man‟s part by his incessant bullying.(HMC 90-14,
TTC p. 3)
This reciprocal behaviour of the Scullery Boy might well be compared
to that of a “battered woman” who unexpectedly revenges herself on her
attacker. Almost every other unpleasant shipboard incident, however, is
attributable to either individual differences or to the effects of drinking while
ashore -- or to a combination of the two.
The single shipboard relationship which was of consequence only
during wartime was that between merchant seafarers and the military. It is,
therefore, the first to be explored here.
A.
RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN MERCHANT AND MILITARY
PERSONNEL
During his interview, Ed Stanko said “recent reports”557 indicate
friction between merchant seamen and Navy gun crews, but that is a fallacy
supported by a few bitter individuals.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 3) Well over half the
respondents, including Stanko himself, described the relationship in positive
terms.(HMC 90-54, TTC p. 1; HMC 90-64, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-28, TTC p. 4; HMC 92-51,
TTC p. 6)
None of the military respondents indicated they, as individuals, felt
any resentment whatsoever toward merchant seafarers, either at the time or in
later years.558 About half the total number of men interviewed suggested
possible reasons for less than entirely amicable relations, and examples of
problems were submitted by a large enough sample of the merchant seamen to
be considered representative.
Military personnel with whom merchant seafarers were in frequent
contact fell into several categories. First, and most familiar to civilian
seafarers, were the Gunners who served aboard the merchantmen themselves.
In the United States these were the United States Navy Armed Guard, usually
called simply the Armed Guard.559 They were all members of the U.S. Navy
and either volunteered for or were assigned to duty aboard merchantmen in
small groups, usually led by a junior commissioned officer. Many of them
came from inland areas and a fairly large proportion appear to have been of
minority ethnic origins, such as Native Americans [Indians], Maltese,
557
. Most of the bad feeling between the merchant marine crews and the Armed
Guard detachments happened early in the war and was concentrated aboard the Liberty ships.
(Carse, The Long Haul, 88)
558
. HMC 90-4, TTC pp. 1-2[NAG]; HMC 90-9, TTC pp. 1-2[USN]; HMC 90-20,
TTC p. 1[NAG]; HMC 90-23, TTC p. 1[NAG]; HMC 90-70, TTC p. 2[RCN]; HMC 91-2, TTC
pp. 2-3[RN]; HMC 92-13, TTC p. 1[TA]; HMC 92-14, TTC p. 1[TA]; HMC 92-18, TTC p.
6[RN]; HMC 92-21, TTC pp. 2-3[RN]; HMC 92-65, TTC p. 4[RN]; HMC 92-71, TTC p.
2[RN]. The letters in square brackets indicate which military group the respondent(s)
represented.
559
. Justin Gleichauf‟s Unsung Sailors is an excellent work on this group‟s
contributions to the war effort during World War II.
Mexicans, and such, although there is no reason to believe that their
backgrounds had any bearing whatsoever on their placement in the Armed
Guard. In Canada, Newfoundland, and the United Kingdom military gunners
aboard merchant ships came from a variety of sources, the Royal Marines, the
Royal Navy, and the Territorial Army.560 In fact, one British respondent said
they came from “just about every service except the RAF.”(HMC 92-11, TTC p.
2)
The term DEMS, standing for “Defensive Equipment Merchant Ships” was
often used to refer to gun crews from all these sources, but it was accurate only
in regard to those drawn from the Navy. Few, if any, of the British gun crews
included commissioned officers, they were usually smaller crews than those
aboard American ships, and were more specialised in their training.
One ex-merchant seaman wrote that he believed the U.S. Navy “took
advantage of” the Armed Guard, although the latter were “willing and brave
kids” who got on well with their civilian shipmates. He felt that the antiquated
weaponry they were given was inadequate against submerged submarines and
nearly so against enemy aircraft. He also stressed that the gun crews were a
placebo to lull the American public into thinking the convoys were protected,
but that he had never seen an American naval vessel as a convoy escort but
once, homeward bound on a round-the-world, and that convoy was abandoned
in mid-Atlantic.561
The first gunners aboard British merchantmen were plucked from the
ranks of retired Marines and there was usually only one to a ship at the
beginning. Later, the Marines were withdrawn for more vital assignments, and
replaced by young volunteers from the Territorial Army who had been trained
in the maintenance and operation of specific armaments, usually the Bofors
guns, and by small groups of Navy gunners, likewise trained in specific
560
. The Territorial Army, portrayed in the television series, “Dad‟s Army”, was and
is the equivalent of the United States National Guard.
561
. Virgil Sharpe, personal correspondence dated 26/XI-1990.
maritime weaponry. The latter were the true DEMS and usually consisted of up
to five ratings with a Leading rate or a Petty Officer in command. It was their
job not only actually to fire the largest armaments aboard, three- to six-inch
guns and twelve-pounders, but also to train merchant seamen to assist them in
this and to handle the lighter weaponry, such as machine guns.
The British system provided merchant seamen with gunnery training
courses of varying lengths, all brief, which gave the trainee a rudimentary
background in the use of certain weapons, including a “ticket” certifying he
had mastered these weapons, and usually a very modest stipend for attending
the course -- something like sixpence a day.562 An occasional American
seaman took one of these courses when ashore in Great Britain, for which he
usually received not only his “ticket” and the British stipend, but also full pay
from his company for the duration of the course, and sometimes a day‟s paid
holiday in addition.
When he paid off his first wartime voyage, Merseysider Alan Peter
went for a gunnery ticket at Salthouse Docks, the naval school in Liverpool.
His “Certificate of Proficiency” on four-inch guns, though small, is an
impressive document. That was December 1939, and two years later, after
upgrading to Bosun, he completed a two-day anti-aircraft gunnery course as
well. This certificate is signed from the “DEMS training centre”, and he had a
third certificate for an ARPS-staffed563 anti-gas training under the auspices of
the Liverpool City Council, dated 8 July 1944. Gunners were in short supply
early in the war, so on midnight, New Year‟s Eve, 1939, immediately after
completing that first gunnery course, Peter signed on an Anglo-Saxon
Petroleum Company oil tanker.(HMC 92-34, TTC p. 2)
562
. Rex Rothwell quoted a Gunner of his acquaintance to the effect that the
Merchant Navy got ten shillings a day for taking the course, but the DEMS men “only got three
bloody cheers.”(HMC 92-72, TTC p. 1)
563
. This group, the Air Raid Precautions Service, comprised the Wardens who
patrolled British cities during the Blitz.
American seaman, Hank Adams, was one who spent some of the time
while his ship was in port in the United Kingdom attending a gunnery school
for merchant mariners. On successfully completing the course on a mock-up
system, he was given ten shillings by the British government and one day‟s
shore leave with pay by the shipping company as well as a certificate.(HMC 9015, TTC p. 2)
On American ships, though, most of the actual handling of the
guns was the province of the Armed Guard, while merchant seamen merely
assisted them by passing ammunition and the like. Some few Cadets,
Midshipmen, and Apprentices had more extensive training in the use of the
guns and were assigned to fire them, and, as has been said, a few ratings
underwent the British gunnery training courses. Occasionally civilians,
especially from the Engine crew, were given “hands-on” training in operating
the weapons.(HMC 90-28, TTC p. 1)
Bill Kirby was “always one of the first to get to action stations”
because the Marcus Daly, on which he made his initial voyage, had given him
battle experience, winning the first U.S. Gallant Ship award to be granted in
the Pacific theatre of operations. “Be where you ought to be!” was his
watchword.(HMC 90-13, TTC p. 2) Bob Hiller had gun training at Cadet school
and operated the 20-mm. machine-gun, with the Engine Cadet acting as his
loader. On American ships merchant seamen primarily loaded, but would take
over firing if Armed Guard casualties necessitated it.(HMC 89-6, TTC pp. 1-2)
Merchant seamen were often involved in gun crews and nearly everyone was
trained for a gun position, as Armed Guard crews were relatively small -- only
twelve to twenty men -- and it took a lot of people. Pat Brinkley had trained
on the 40-mm. at the USMS school on Catalina Island.(HMC 90-43, TTC p. 1)
Bob DeWees, who served with ATS [Army Transport Service], said the
Merchant Marine had “GQ” [general quarters -- emergency] stations as the
Armed Guard were “spread thin” and could not keep a twenty-four-hour
watch. The Merchant Marine helped and later more gunners were
available.(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 1) Marty Hrivnak agreed each merchant mariner
was assigned a gun position along with the Armed Guard, but in his
experience it was all “on-the-job training”. He was “hot-shellman” on the
“three-inch fifty”, second loader with silk powder bags on the five-inch, as
well as loader and trigger man on both the 20-mm. and .50-calibre machineguns. He said the Navy got the glory for many deeds done by the Merchant
Marine, for which the latter were never credited.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3)
The number of military gunners aboard North American or British
ships was quite small at the outset of the war, but increased over the duration.
Americans said there were only five to eight in the earliest contingents placed
aboard, but they later increased to as many as thirty or forty on larger vessels
and most ships had at least twelve.(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 1; HMC 90-57, TTC p. 2) A
Canadian volunteered that the Second Officer was the Gunnery Officer. His
first two ships did not have DEMS gunners, but then they got six of them. On
his last ship, in 1945, the number had increased to thirty-two and the vessel
was “self-protected”, able to throw more “FLAK” than a corvette or a
minesweeper -- almost as much as a destroyer.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 2) Another
Canadian acted as “trainer” on the four-inch gun. The “trainer” adjusts the gun
horizontally, while the “layer” adjusts it vertically. They also had rapid-fire
Oerlikon guns for anti-aircraft, but only carried defensive armaments, “and
usually a torpedo got you first”. They seldom got a shot at a submarine, since
those were not foolish enough to surface. There were only one or two DEMS,
and the rest of the gun crew were civilians. Usually the Navy personnel would
“lay” and fire the gun; they had to keep on target and were reasonably
accurate. Once when shooting at targets they hit a smoke float on the second
shot. “You had to know the range. The first shot was always to get the
range.” The U.S. Navy Armed Guard provided bigger gun crews, seldom
fewer than five men.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 2)
A Newfoundlander said there were usually two DEMS and the total gun
crew of six to eight was filled out from the merchant crew. The two key men,
the layer and trainer, would be Navy and the merchant gunners would load,
etc. In December 1939, this informant was sent to a naval gunnery school on
the Isle of Dogs, London, to be a sight-setter (set the degree of elevation and
correct for wind, etc. -- elevation and deflection). Other crew members -- one
worked the breech, one loaded, two rammed the shell home, one put in the bag
of cordite, and one put in the cartridge. Then they would report to the gunlayer “Ready to fire” and the order “Shoot” was given -- usually by the
Merchant Navy Second Officer. The response was “Fire!” Both mean the
same, but that was how it was done.(HMC 91-4, TTC pp. 6-7) Another
Newfoundlander took a gunnery course in Portsmouth and said there were two
or three courses offered -- six-inch guns, rifles, twelve-pounders.... The
military gunners were well-trained and they did the shooting, while the
Merchant Navy were mostly “supplies people” who fetched and carried
ammunition, loaded, and the like.(HMC 91-8, TTC p. 3) Yet another said he was
never on a ship with an actual “Gunnery Officer”. The highest ranking DEMS
were Petty Officer Second Class, with maybe a Gunner or something of the
sort to lay and train the gun (well, aim it) and merchant seamen loaded, and so
on. There were always two DEMS and they would stand watch-and-watch, four
hours on-four off in daylight. But there was always a volunteer ship‟s gun
crew that helped maintain watch and took training from the DEMS people to
maintain the six-inch gun (most were six-inch guns). There was always a
gunnery crew aboard every ship.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 2) Canadian merchant
seamen were mostly involved as ammunition-passers on the big gun and a few
were trained on the smaller guns. They had fire training and a day‟s anti-gas
training in Halifax, Nova Scotia, all other training was done aboard by the
DEMS
as well. Occasionally the ship‟s Carpenter would make a target and, if
they were at a distance from other ships, they might drop it over the side and
take target practice.(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 2)
The guns aboard British troopships were mostly in charge of DEMS, but
there was also a “real” Royal Navy gunner. Alf Dennis was part of the gun
crew, but they never did much but practice a little. On some troopships the
troops aboard mounted and manned their own anti-aircraft guns.(HMC 92-10,
TTC p. 3)
Not all DEMS personnel were from the Royal Navy. Some were
Royal Marines, some Army.564 It was important, because they were trained and
the Merchant Navy was not. “They had half a chance; we had none at
all.”(HMC 92-11, TTC p. 2)
Capt. R.A. Simpson told what he labelled “a funny story” about an
experience he had undergone in convoy. The four-inch gun was on a platform;
the twelve-pounder was lower, but the telephone to the bridge was higher. The
Apprentice [in this case Simpson himself] was sight-setter/range-fixer on the
four-inch and assistant on the anti-aircraft. His ship was in a two-column
coastal convoy leaving the Channel from the East Coast in early 1941;
Occupied France was visible, but England was not. Dive-bombers attacked
the convoy and, in the midst of the battle, someone told Simpson to lie down
or he would get his head blown off by his own gunners. He had not even
noticed the hazard. These are the crazy things that happen in wartime.(HMC 925, TTC p. 3)
Another respondent detailed his first experience on an armed
merchantman and spoke of some of the additional armaments which were
received later in the war. After discharging at Tilbury Docks, they had to
564
. This is an example of the inaccurate use of the term DEMS for all military
shipboard gunners.
strengthen the poop deck to mount an anti-submarine gun of 1918 vintage,
which had probably been languishing in some naval storage depot. They also
got a twelve-pound anti-aircraft gun and one Marine Gunner. There were no
DEMS
as yet, and no other Gunners aboard. The Marine gunner was there to
instruct the Merchant Navy in the maintenance and operation of the guns. The
merchant seamen had not volunteered, but were chosen for gunnery duties. It
was probably about six months before they actually got a chance to fire the gun
on their next voyage to the Indian Ocean. They threw an old oil drum in as a
target and decided to fire the gun -- probably the first time it had been fired
since 1918. To be on the safe side (they did not know if it would explode)
they all jumped off the gun platform and fired it with a lanyard. “Missed by a
mile. No chance of hitting a thing, y‟know.” But the steel struts and stiffening
that had been installed were not adequate, so the vibration of the first shot
cracked the glass in about eight ports,565 and shattered lightbulbs in the after
end where all the crew accommodation was. It was a very amateurish effort.
Extra stiffening had to be installed later, but while the informant was on the
ship he only saw the gun fired about twice. They “had a couple of goes” at the
twelve-pounder as well, but lost that gun on a subsequent voyage when,
outward bound to Panama alone, they were sent into Bermuda. The gun was
removed to a homeward-bound vessel which was short of armament, and they
never saw it again -- only the turret. In its place they were given a "Holman
projector", fired by compressed air, rather like a mortar, and intended to fire an
explosive device against low-flying aircraft. It was a joke. Sometimes, for
fun, they used to fire potatoes out of it, or fifty-cigarette tins. Just a blast of air
and that was it. The projectors were always a standing joke amongst ships -most informants who mentioned them doubted they were ever effective.
Another part of the Holman projector fired a little parachute with a wire to
565
. Portholes.
entangle low-flying aircraft, but it was never any use, just a joke.566 The
respondent said, “We found it fired potatoes beautifully. Just put a potato
down the barrel and away it went. ... It was cheaper to shoot potatoes than
anything else!”(HMC 92-69, TTC pp. 6-7) Another British respondent said on his
ship they had also fired potatoes to see how it worked, “until the [Chief]
Steward got wise to us and he put all the spuds under lock and key.” But he
thinks there were more potatoes fired out of it than mortar bombs. “Umpteen
gadgets were put aboard ship in the way of armaments at this period.”(HMC 9250, TTC pp. 6-7)
A number of these “gadgets” were described at length by
various informants, although it has not been deemed necessary to include
descriptions of every device in this study.
Fred Lavis and Frank Brown were Territorial Army volunteers in the
Maritime Regiment567 and sailed as Gunners aboard merchantmen throughout
the war. The DEMS were naval Gunners aboard, manning the Oerlikons and the
Lewis guns. The “Maritime Regiment” manned the Bofors and were not
qualified on the others. The Merchant Navy took care of streaming paravanes
and torpedo nets and that sort of thing. All the “Maritime Regiment” did was
the guns and barrage balloons. Merchant Navy volunteers worked on the
Oerlikons or the Lewis guns with the DEMS, but not on the Bofors. The Army
Gunners, however, had to clean and maintain the guns for the Merchant Navy
if there were no Royal Navy personnel aboard to do so or to instruct the
Merchant Navy in proper maintenance procedures. In the earliest stages of the
war, guns were manned by Royal Marine pensioners brought back to active
duty, but these personnel were all replaced by Territorial Army volunteers, as
the Marines were much in demand elsewhere. Relationships with merchant
crews could not have been better and Fred Lavis, especially, fraternised with
566
. See elsewhere, where a friendly aircraft became entangled in the wires and
barely missed disaster.
567
. Maritime Royal Artillery.
civilian seamen ashore, going to canteens where his skill as a pianist made him
a favourite companion. Never much of a drinker, when he was given free
drinks he passed them on to his shipmates, both Gunners and merchant
seafarers. The M.R.A.568 basically operated on the same principle as the
Merchant Navy “Pools” -- “when your leave was over, you were fair
game”.(HMC 92-13, TTC pp. 1-3; HMC 92-14, TTC p. 1)
Urban Peters was himself a “DEMS” Gunner. They were paid sixpence a
day while on the training course. There is now a veterans‟ organisation in
Liverpool for ex-DEMS and at the time of the interview, Peters was its oldest
member.(HMC 92-47, TTC p. 6) Barney Lafferty likewise did a fortnight‟s
gunnery course in Liverpool, where the Albert Dock is,569 and then did regular
refresher courses of two or three days each. He was given a proficiency ticket
as a “seaman gunner”, having trained on four-inch (the main artillery of the
ship) and on high-angle anti-aircraft guns.(HMC 92-55, TTC p. 3)
Troopships often had a had permanent gunnery staff. In the Andes
these were Americans who “were absolutely first class”! DEMS were generally
accepted as members of the crew. They used to go ashore together with their
civilian shipmates and got on well.(HMC 92-69, TTC p. 2)
In a merchant ship there was an Officers‟ Mess, and a Seamen‟s Mess.
DEMS were usually placed with the Petty Officers‟ Mess (Bosun, Carpenter,
Quartermasters). “They didn‟t go with the seamen or with the officers; they
went somewhere in between.” Often, DEMS were old Marines or Royal Navy
sailors called back from retirement, like the convoy Commodores. “Well, we
never had any problem like that,570 because most of our people were old (in
their forties and fifties) retired people called back.” Captain Tom Goodyear
568
. See previous footnote.
. Where the Merseyside Maritime Museum is now located.
570
. Silly misconceptions, 90-day wonders, and the like.
569
told of ex-Royal Marine DEMS, Charlie Andrews, who had been in the first
Falklands conflict in 1915-1916, where he was trapped in a gun turret with the
doors jammed, and escaped the sinking ship by unlocking the trunnions, firing
the gun, and letting its recoil break it out of the after end of the turret. Charlie
“was a good man to tell a story”.(HMC 91-4, TTC pp. 6-7)
Beyond their military shipmates, merchant mariners also encountered
troopships filled with young soldiers, marines, and airmen who were green
both literally and figuratively, and also the men of the military Navy, who
manned the escort vessels delegated to conduct them safely in convoy
situations. These contacts were rare and brief for men below officer rank, but
ample data attest to irascible exchanges between merchant ships‟ Masters and
military escort commanders.
Most American informants indicated that what few really serious
difficulties occurred between merchant seamen and Armed Guard personnel
were the result of inappropriate or unfounded attitudes of individuals,
especially the junior naval officers assigned to gun crews during the early
stages of American involvement in the war. Capt. Emerson Chodzko, for
example, stated that all relationships between merchant mariners and the
Armed Guard depended on the gunnery officer involved.(HMC 89-2, TTC p. 3) A
typical confrontation between a gunnery officer and a merchant skipper was
described thus:
One seaman back from the Red Sea run told of an amusing runin between his skipper and the ensign who commanded the gun
crew aboard her. The Navy man was about 25, a 90-day
wonder on his first trip and full of his own importance. “The
first day out,” the seaman recounts, “he goes up to the Old Man
and gives him a big line of talk, telling him to remember he‟s
second in command now.571 The Old Man looks at him for a
spell, saying nothing. Then he calls in the mate and the rest of
us.
571
. The line about the gunnery officer being “in command” occurs in HMC 89-6,
TTC pp. 1-2; HMC 90-59, TTC p. 4; HMC 90-67, TTC pp. 1-2.
“„This feller tells me he‟s second in command now,‟ the
captain begins, „so I thought I'd better get you all up here and
tell you.‟ He says it perfectly straight-faced, but we know what
he‟s thinking and let off a big hoot. The poor guy just stands
there not knowing what to do. „Listen,‟ says the Old Man,
turning to the ensign after a bit, „your job is that gun out
yonder,‟ and he jerks his thumb aft. „You know how to shoot
her. We don‟t. And we‟re not interfering. Now our job‟s
sailing this ship and we know how to do that without any help
from you.‟ So it‟s all right after that and we hear no more out
of him.”
Asked how gun crew and seamen get on, however, this
man‟s answer was, “They‟re swell. Mostly young kids, you
know, with maybe an old hand along to help out. Sure, we get
along fine. When we go to the slop chest we get a carton of
cigarettes for them or something else maybe. You see -- we‟re
a lot better paid. I‟ve never met a gun crew yet I didn‟t like and
I think the rest of the men feel that way.
“They know their guns, too,” he went on admiringly. “I
seen them take pot shots at old fuel cans dumped astern for
practice. They got four out of five on the first shot. Those guys
will keep on firing after the seas come in over the deck. They‟ll
shoot their damn gun until it‟s under water.”572
Stories like the primary anecdote above have been told repeatedly
throughout the North American fieldwork.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 2, HMC 90-45, TTC
p. 3)
Even the occasional British respondent who thought the Gunners were
“great guys” might have trouble with a “jackass with a couple of stripes”.(HMC
92-44, TTC p. 5)
It has been noted, however, that the “90-day wonders” who
appeared during the early stages of America‟s involvement in the war with
inflated ideas of their own importance were later supplanted by more mature
professional men, such as lawyers, accountants, schoolmasters and
professors.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 6) These later gunnery officers were more
cognisant of their standing within the vessel‟s hierarchy of command and were
better able to handle interpersonal relationships than their younger, less
experienced predecessors. Many of them have been characterised by their
civilian shipmates as “real gentlemen”. Sometimes the same merchant officer
came in contact with both types during his war service, and in such cases, there
is a palpable contrast between his depictions of the two.
572
. Palmer, 261-262.
Capt. Vince Finan was charged by one Gunnery Officer for stopping
the ship to adjust the fuel tanks and add water ballast.(HMC 90-59, TTC p. 4)
Gun crew members were stationed outside Finan‟s cabin with orders to “shoot
to kill” if he turned on his lights without first closing the blackout ports, and
another Gunnery Officer was barred from the officers‟ mess, because he would
not wear his jacket to meals in the tropics.573 Yet Capt. Finan had a third
Gunnery Officer, a Certified Public Accountant [Chartered Accountant] in
civilian life, who was “the nicest guy in the world” and assisted with the ship‟s
complicated paperwork. The gun crew ratings were “nice kids” as well.(HMC
90-60, TTC pp. 1-2)
Capt. Finan‟s friend and colleague, Capt. Ed March, said
one young Ensign, with only a week at sea, told him (he had then been sailing
for about five years) that “he wasn‟t sure if [March‟s] manner qualified [him]
as a lookout”. Capt. March in turn “told him to scat”. This was his only
unpleasant experience with gun crews.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 6) Occasionally the
friction was caused not by feather-headed young Gunnery Officers, but by the
mulish obstinacy of merchant officers themselves. There was one squabble on
the Murmansk Run, when the Captain refused to put out his cigar during a
blackout. The Gunnery Officer in this case legitimately relieved him of his
command and gave it to the Chief Mate.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3)
Many merchant Masters with extensive experience were impatient in
convoy situations and disliked being ordered about by young escort officers.
Occasionally this resulted in an incident. One such was the case of a
merchantman which was capable of a much faster speed than that to which the
convoy was limited. Seething with frustration, her skipper suddenly turned her
573
. Certain standards were expected of officers, which were not required of ratings.
On acquiring a Third Mate‟s ticket, Jim North discovered most companies had a rule that one
did not enter the officers‟ mess without a “dress shirt” [in American usage, the sort of shirt
worn with a business suit, not formal evening wear]. As he had only one white shirt, he
thereafter wore it for meals only and never washed it throughout the voyage. One reason
Engineers preferred a separate mess, was that they did not need to change for meals, but could
manage with simply a uniform blouse and a good hand-washing.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 3) [Cf.
also remarks about “patrol suits” in Section B.]
away from the convoy and went off on his own. The Commodore signalled
him to get back in line immediately and received an extremely rude reply as he
continued on his way. “Part of the reply was „piss off‟ and it included a
number of four-letter words starting with f-, sh-, -- the lot.” This, however,
was an isolated incident, as “usually merchant ships were glad of the
protection of the guns of the Royal Navy and of the U.S. Navy”. No rivalry or
animosity existed between regular ratings.(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 2)
A slightly less ticklish affair occurred when a merchantman fell behind
the rest of the convoy, her Captain having had no sleep for three days and four
nights. She was approached by an escort vessel and “a typical Royal Navy
voice” asked for the Captain, who happened to be shaving at that particular
moment. As he emerged from his cabin, wiping soap from his face, the Navy
man said, “I trust you‟ve had a good night‟s sleep,” and proceeded to request,
in a rather supercilious fashion, that they rejoin the convoy. The
merchantman‟s skipper was indignant at this, since his ship was “going full
out” at the time. Such situations were understandable, however, as many
convoys got dispersed and the escorts had to rush about and herd them back
together.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 5)
It appears from the fieldwork data as well that Palmer spoke for all
related Forces personnel in both North America and the United Kingdom when
she wrote:
...the Navy has plenty of respect for the merchant seamen who
are taking the ships and their cargoes through as dangerous
waters as the Navy itself ever has to travel. They have seen a
lot of the courage of these civilians out on the firing line.574
since Rutter corroborates her:
...the two services are complementary. They have always been
so. Their relations are closer in war than in peace, and have
never been so close as they are to-day; but it is well to
574
. Palmer, 261-262.
remember that the “merchants‟ service” existed for centuries
before the Royal Navy, which owed its being to the need of
protecting the nation‟s sea-borne trade.575
One U.S. Navy rating from an escort crew always liked the Merchant
Marine. He is almost surprised he did not go into the mercantile marine when
he left the Navy, but when he suggested that he sit for a Second Assistant
Engineer‟s licence and try for a job with American President Lines, his wife‟s
reply was: “OK, but forget me.” He also said naval and merchant crews
regularly fraternised in port.(HMC 90-9, TTC pp. 1-2) A civilian respondent
remembered bar fights when merchant seamen and Armed Guard joined forces
to fight a common enemy, but he never recalls there being friction between
them.(HMC 90-44 TTC p. 3)
A veteran of the Royal Canadian Navy felt merchant seafarers were
very underrated and never got the credit they should have had. One of the
escorts‟ jobs was picking up survivors from torpedoed ships, and they could
lose up to half the ships they were escorting. The pick-up was a gruesome
task. He had nothing but praise for the merchant marine, which took many
casualties and lost the most men.576 His merchant “opposite” said the
“boarding officer”577 who checked the convoy ships in Halifax, Nova Scotia,
usually had no feeling for the merchant mariners‟ needs and wants. He had no
understanding of the union situation, foreign-manned ships, or any such thing.
When they assembled in Bedford Basin, Digby Gut, and similar places, to
supply worldwide, the last person whose needs and wants were supplied was
the merchant seaman. As the war progressed, RCN officers began to
understand the merchant marine much better and to look after them much
better as well.578 The “gut-robbers” were defeated and they finally got a decent
575
. Rutter, 8.
. See Chapter Six, as well as Appendix B.
577
. See Cdr. Frederick B. Watt, In All Respects Ready (Don Mills, Ont.: Totem
Books, 1986). This is an autobiographical work by one such “boarding officer”.
578
. Watt maintains that he himself gained insight into the problems of the
merchant mariners while in this position and was always open and sympathetic to
their grievances.
576
meal at least once a day. The RCN naval escorts did a terrific job. Relations
were better than excellent. They had “Brits, some Americans, and lots of good
Canadians”. In the United States battle for merchant marine veterans‟ status,
gunners were the biggest supporters of the merchant mariners.(HMC 90-69, TTC
The Merchant Navy did a marvellous job and suffered the most
pp. 1 and 3)579
casualties of the war. Merchant vessels were “walking death-traps”.(HMC 92-3,
TTC p. 4)
Some British merchant seamen wanted to join the Royal Navy, but
were told it was “too late now”. Most admired and respected Royal Navy men
and perhaps were even a little in awe of them. There was not much contact,
really. Royal Navy personnel consisted mostly of specialists and experts in
armaments and gunnery.(HMC 92-1, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-33, TTC p. 2) The Royal
Canadian Navy at the time comprised mostly Royal Canadian Navy Volunteer
Reserve. There were about four thousand men in the RCN, but that rose to
sixty or seventy thousand by the end of the war. Informant Richard AldhelmWhite himself became RCN at the end of 1943. Most of the RCN (and most
of the merchant marine) were “inland sailors”.580 Relations were excellent,
although there were shortcomings on both sides. Aldhelm-White never had
any problems with merchant seamen, but used to drink with them ashore and
was always upset that they were never fully recognised by the Canadian
Government.(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 2)581
U.S. Navy Armed Guard sometimes went ashore with merchant
seamen, as well, and one claimed a merchant oiler as one of his best
buddies.(HMC 90-23, TTC p. 1) A merchant seafarer echoed this response, saying
although the Armed Guard had their own quarters and were not supposed to
mix with the merchant crewmen, they did so. They did not “buddy up” too
579
. See Chapter Six for more on this struggle, both in the U.S. and Canada.
. Men whose origins were from land-locked areas without coastlines.
581
. See footnote 27.
580
much, but there was no animosity. Sometimes the Armed Guard would do
calisthenics or other physical training on the deck, and the merchant crew
would join them for the exercise. He again emphasised, however, that most of
the “Lieutenants” were “90-day wonders” and some of them were really
“whips”,582 saying sometimes a Gunnery Officer would be especially
contemptuous of the merchant crew.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 3)
One ex-Armed Guard had experienced only one problem with the
merchant marine -- with a Master who noticed him staring at the casting-off
operations and reprimanded him for looking in the wrong direction whilst he
was on lookout duty. The Gunnery Officer told the Captain, “Don‟t scold my
men; tell me and I‟ll take care of it.”(HMC 90-23, TTC p. 1)583 In Puget Sound the
merchant marine and Armed Guard together used to “get on” the four-inch
gun, which took two people to focus its telescopic sights, and use these sights
to watch girls on the beach or observe island scenery while at anchor.(HMC 9024, TTC p. 1)
Several of the more mature merchant seafarers from the United States
were unnerved by the “greenness”, inexperience, and inadequacies of many of
the young gun crews, but relationships were generally good.(HMC 90-48, TTC p.
1; HMC 90-58, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-67, TTC pp. 1-2 and 6)
One Canadian officer
maintained he had often said the DEMS did nothing -- “well, they didn‟t, except
in action.” There are always a lot of rivalries and animosities on a ship;
different types and backgrounds of men are thrown together in a confined
space; this is understandable, but camaraderie and professionalism were
always foremost on the ships he sailed in.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 2) An English
rating said DEMS were “sort of like a foreign body” -- not seen as proper crew
582
. Martinets.
. This Armed Guard veteran, Charlie Baca, had overheard Clint Johnson, an exMarine Engineer, giving me a tour of the S/S Lane Victory and saying the reason the Armed
Guard usually had a separate mess was that they did not get along well with the ships‟ crews.
Baca immediately insisted on scheduling an interview of his own to refute this claim.
583
by anyone, but there on sufferance only. They were sometimes considered
rejects from the Forces and this opinion was perhaps justified. They were also
seen as having a free ride, as they had nothing to do but maintain the
guns.(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 3)
The single area in which the U.S. Navy Armed Guard is consistently
notorious is their voracious and seemingly insatiable appetite for food. Most
North American seamen remember the Armed Guard as perpetually hungry, or
recall that they regularly raided the refrigerator in the messroom and stole the
crew‟s “night lunch”.584(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 3; HMC 90-52, TTC p. 1) One man said
when they came off watch, the refrigerator would be stripped -- nothing inside
but frost.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 1) In the hiring hall of San Francisco‟s SUP
[Sailor‟s Union of the Pacific], a veteran seaman elaborated on what type of
young man became an Armed Guard and why they developed their reputation
for voracity. They were usually farm boys torn from simple, routine lives and
used to hard work and lots of good, plain food. Many of them put on weight
aboard, being suddenly deprived of exercise and having little to do but eat
when not at action stations.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 2)
In a lighter vein, but on the same theme, it was said that the greatest
number of casualties of these “Icebox Commandos” resulted from pneumonia
contracted through standing too long in front of open refrigerator doors.(HMC
90-10, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-40, TTC p. 1)
One respondent also spoke in jest of the
receipt of the Purple Heart585 by gun crew members who had dropped large tins
of marmalade on their feet while raiding the merchant crew‟s mess.(HMC 90-40,
TTC p. 1)
A Canadian statement indicated that Canadian DEMS earned a similar
584
. The “night lunch”, seldom, if ever, provided on British vessels, consisted of
leftovers from the day‟s meals, a variety of sandwich components, and other snacks. It was
left, usually in a refrigerator in the crew‟s mess, for the late night watchkeepers. [See also
Chapter Four under “Favourite Watches” and Chapter Seven for the “black pan” and “hoodle”,
two systems for providing similar amenities to late-night watchkeepers on British vessels.]
585
. A medal awarded American Armed Forces personnel wounded in the line of
duty.
notoriety for their insatiable appetites.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 2) This does not
appear to have been the case with the English DEMS, however; the legendary
appetite is attributed there to Apprentices and Cadets, as will be seen shortly.
The humorous poem below was discovered taped to the door of the
messroom “reefer” or “fridge” aboard a Liberty ship preserved in the harbour
at Baltimore, Maryland.
“GUARDING THE FRIGIDAIRE”586
I‟m on a ship that‟s out at sea -Doing my bit for Liberty -I haven‟t a worry, or even a care
Knowing the Loyal Armed Guard is there,
Wherever you look, you‟ll see them on duty
Faithfully guarding our FRIGIDAIRE.
Scanning the water -- eyes piercing the sky.
For they may come by water -- they may come by air,
But come how they may, he‟ll still be there,
Bravely defending -- our FRIGIDAIRE.
Up in the Turret he bravely stands,
Thinking of fun he‟ll have when he lands,
The coffee bell rings -- he‟s off with a cheer!
He‟ll stand right there, with no thought of fear -The Loyal Armed Guard -- by the FRIGIDAIRE.
The moral of this tale -- Brave Men of the Sea -Take a lunch box on watch, or hungry you‟ll be.
For if you reach for some food, in the old FRIGIDAIRE,
You‟ll find the Armed Guard has beat you there.
WIPER, SS. ROGER SHERMAN587
Despite this apparently prejudicial situation, few merchant mariners
felt serious antipathy toward their Armed Guard brethren. More considered
the young men in the light of a “pesky kid brother” toward whom they were
sympathetic even when exasperated. Men from the Stewards‟ Department
sometimes struck up friendships with the Armed Guard and became much
586
. Frigidaire is the brand name of a North American line of commercial and
domestic refrigerators and freezers. As it was one of the first tradenames there, the name is
often used to refer to any food refrigeration unit.
587
. Copied by the researcher on a piece of S/S John W. Brown (KHJL) (Project
Liberty Ship) message letterhead in the messroom of the above vessel from a notice taped to
the refrigerator door, 1990.
sought-after mates because of their ability to oblige their familiars with special
treats from the victualling stores.
Most of “Pig-Eye” Watson‟s friends were in the Armed
Guard. They were young, as he was, but the merchant mariners
were older (many were almost thirty!) and “didn‟t want to
play”. Watson had the keys to the storeroom at night, and
would take his special buddies to get tinned fruit cocktail, of
which they were fond. It was appropriate for the Armed Guard
to be friends with a Messman, as they were always hungry.
Once, while bringing up a crate of oranges, Watson dragged it
past the Armed Guard‟s forecastle, and threw the entire crate
inside. He had to get another case for the messroom, but was
considered “a hero” by the Armed Guard. Others did not mix
much with the Navy men, who usually stayed in their own mess
at night to play cards, etc.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 1-2)
Apparently no similar food-related stigma attached to DEMS or other
military gunners aboard British vessels. Whether this was because the
conditions under which British merchant crews lived were less comfortable
and their rations less generous than those aboard North American ships, or
simply that the celebrated “shipboard appetite” more strongly affected farm
boys from the American/Canadian Midwest, who had never before lacked for
as much food as they desired, than it did lads from the Liverpool slums who
were used to short commons and rationing, is a matter for conjecture. Both
views have been expressed in the field data, although the latter was perhaps
given a shade more conviction by its advocates. Amongst British seafarers, it
seemed Cadets and Apprentices had the reputation of being perennially
hungry, but it was carefully made clear to me during the fieldwork that their
diet was adequate, simply not as much as their voracious young appetites
would have preferred. In English ships there were no iceboxes or night
lunches; no food was provided in the crew‟s accommodation; some vessels did
not even have a crew‟s messroom.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 5)
Apprentices were most concerned with finding something to eat. They
were watch-keeping all night; they were young and working hard in the open
air; so they were always “starving”. They got “dry stores” -- a tin of Nestlé‟s
milk between the four of them (per week) did not last long, plus coffee and tea,
cheese, pickles, and jam, but not much bread, as that was made every day.
Two loaves between four lads did not go far. They also got their meals, but
any hassles they might get into were associated with “pinching” food from the
Engineers‟ mess or the Stewards‟ pantry. “It was always food.”(HMC 92-26,
TTC pp. 3-4)
Dick Playfer believed the Armed Guard and the military Gunners
aboard British ships were similar types of young boys, ignorant of nautical
conditions. He recalled one who could not be disabused of the idea that it was
“downhill” to South Africa and would thus take longer to complete the return
voyage “uphill”.(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 3)
Most merchant seafarers spoke of a “them” and “us” separation
between military Gunners and themselves, a sort of “keeping themselves to
themselves” situation, although few felt any animosity toward the Gunners or
sensed any severe intolerance toward themselves. One said, “If you met ‟em
in the pub, you‟d have a pint, otherwise you didn‟t mix.”(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 5)
Another felt the relationship was “not a hundred percent”, because if there
were problems aboard, the “soldiers would be part of the establishment”.
They had been brainwashed and drilled into discipline and were
used to the officer system ashore, so when they came aboard,
the Merchant Navy looked like a “crowd of renegades”. Before
the war, some Captains and Chief Officers did not like to hire
ex-Navy as seamen, because they “couldn‟t think for
themselves”.
In his own experience, they were the same age, but from other
areas of country and did not understand the way of life. All
were victualled the same, but generally kept to their own
quarters and messed separately. Not every ship carried them.
On one ship there was only one Marine, on his own, isolated, so
there was no friction. “He got on with us; he was just an
ordinary guy.” The “nitty-gritty” was that there was no serious
conflict, but there was a little division. “We were seamen; they
were soldiers.” In many cases they came from different parts of
the country and “didn‟t even think like us.” That is where
differences arose. “Most seamen, over the years, got to think
much along the same lines,” even if they did not agree. When
the informant meets a seaman today, he knows what to talk
about generally, even if it is just a chance meeting in a pub.
These were foreigners; the sea was foreign to them, too; and if
there was a hassle aboard, the soldiers generally allied
themselves with the officers, which made a little problem. The
soldiers were “sort of a bulwark, like a sort of a watertight door
between us and the officers.” It generally started over food,
though. Also, convoy conferences made some Captains think
they were Navy, because they were involved with “fellas with
all kinds of gold braid, used to putting men in chains and
everything, and of course some of it was rubbin‟ off on these
merchant Captains.” Before that they were “quite human
bein‟s, but they got swell-headed.” They saw themselves
running the war after rubbing shoulders with LieutenantCommanders and Admirals. Some introduced unnecessary
discipline and there was always “the odd friction”. There was
never a serious problem with the military, but there was always
a “paper barrier” like that between the Deck Department and
the Stewards. It was that sort of thing, an imaginary barrier, but
nothing serious.(HMC 92-55, TTC pp. 2-3)
A man who served in both the Merchant Service and the Royal Navy
said there was always a bit of bantering between the two, especially in the
wardroom. “Proper” RN officers said merchant seamen joined the Navy to
become gentlemen. “I told them I was a gentleman before they were, and I
said it very rudely, too.” There was always bantering between the RNR
(which was mostly Merchant Service) and the RN, as well. They always “tried
to get a sly dig in” but “the like o‟ myself could always counteract ‟em.” He
was always very quick on the uptake.(HMC 91-2, TTC p. 3) A Canadian
academic also quoted: “The Merchant Marine is a bunch of sailors trying to be
gentlemen; the Navy is a bunch of gentlemen trying to be sailors.”588 They got
along quite well, but the Merchant Navy considered themselves “sailors” while
the Royal Navy were “soldiers at sea”. A merchant Master was far more
respected than an Admiral, but they still got along quite well. Naval vessels
and those aboard went through atrocious weather and suffered more than the
larger (by ten times or more) merchant ships.(HMC 92-35, TTC p. 2)589
588
. Personal communication, Graham McBride, Librarian at Maritime Museum of
the Atlantic, Halifax, Nova Scotia, 1 August 1990.
589
. See Chapter Four for mention of battering and seasickness about escort vessels.
A major bone of contention on both sides of the Atlantic seems to have
been the ostensible discrepancy in wages. At first glance, the merchant
seaman appeared to be much better paid than his military counterpart, but even
a superficial examination reveals that all was not as it seemed. Merchant
seamen, for example, were paid off at the end of a voyage in one large lump
sum, which looked huge compared to the military‟s meagre monthly stipend.
One man left the U.S. Navy, where he was making $78.50 per month, and paid
off his first postwar civilian voyage at $1250.00 -- but no mention is made of
the length of the run or whether there were still such hazards as minefields to
be encountered. Voyages at that time might last as long as twelve to fourteen
months, which would make his civilian wages only about $100 per month,
including danger money. This man admitted the merchant marine got better
pay plus bonuses, but said in liberty ports it was “just a bunch of Americans”.
In some islands merchant mariners got free beer, while the Navy had to pay,590
which caused a “helluva head-knockin‟ contest”. Otherwise there were not
many problems.(HMC 89-3, TTC p. 1) Sometimes the situations were reversed,
as on Ulithe, in the Pacific, where military men were allowed ashore, but
merchant mariners were not. There was also a small place there, where Navy
men could get drink -- at least beer -- but again merchant seamen were not
allowed.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 6) But where fraternisation occurred, a merchant
seaman might regularly buy drinks ashore for a military buddy who was not as
well-paid.(HMC 90-12, TTC p. 1) One interviewee had been told that early in the
war, when enemy submarines were thick off the Atlantic coast, merchant
crews would hold a “blanket muster”591 after every trip for the Armed Guard to
590
. I believe he meant the reverse, although it may have been a reference to the
United Seamen‟s Service “clubs” which allowed merchant seamen to purchase up to three cans
of beer and provided Stateside newspapers to read.(Carse, The Long Haul, 177)
591
. A “blanket muster” or “tarpaulin muster” was a nautical way of “passing the
hat”. A blanket, sheet, or tarpaulin would be spread upon the deck in the forecastle or
messroom and each man in turn would toss onto it his contribution, in much the same way that
passers-by toss money into a busking musician‟s instrument case. The resultant yield would
then be dispersed to its proper recipient(s), most often a deceased or injured shipmate‟s family
ashore, but in this case the lower-paid military gunners.
equalise their pay, but after things settled down it no longer happened. People
did not seem to realise the pay differential was not as large as it seemed, the
merchant seamen getting none of the “perks” appertaining to the naval
personnel.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 3)
Naval vessels and Forces personnel, especially those from the States,
were particularly generous “in kind” to merchant seamen, although
merchantmen had smaller crews and did not need extras so badly. In the
Pacific they could replenish clothing from Army stores. One Marine Engineer
still has one of the good heavy-duty khaki shirts he acquired that way.(HMC 9025, TTC p. 2)
“Distressed British Seamen”592 were often kitted out by their
military rescuers. When one arrived home, still wearing the U.S. Army
uniform and khaki forage cap (without pips or insignia) he had been given as a
DBS in North Africa, his wife, meeting him at the station in Wales and not
knowing the complete situation, burst out laughing, saying the cap looked
“like a pimple on a haystack”.(HMC 91-8, TTC p. 3) An English Cadet who had
been ill was on watch in cold weather and the Royal Marine DEMS gunner,
finding he had no balaclava, gave the youngster his own.(HMC 92-30, TTC p. 2)
The Royal Navy‟s gifts of Navy uniforms were “sort of rough-and ready”,
while the U.S. Navy gave the finest -- all brand-new. They were also generous
with cold drinks in hotter climes, as they had ice. When at anchor, U.S. Navy
vessels also invited merchant seamen aboard to view first-run films. The
British Merchant Navy gave them alcoholic beverages in return -- they were
generous up to a point.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 6)
One American informant read from a document entitled “Truth and
Facts About Merchant Marine Service” and mentioned Bill #2346 which
would have granted merchant seamen veterans‟ status in 1946. Comparing a
592
. The term officially and historically used for British merchant seafarers who had
lost their vessels and were stranded ashore in foreign countries, this is often represented simply
by its initial letters, DBS.
Navy Seaman Second Class with an Ordinary Seaman (merchant), each with a
wife and two children, the naval man would have received $1886.40 in a year
and the merchant seaman $1897.70, but benefits weighed the balance heavily
toward the military man. Insurance for the merchant mariner was only in
effect while he was at sea. If he fell down drunk ashore and was killed, his
family received nothing. Merchant mariners‟ dependants received no medical
or other benefits. The military man received a uniform allowance and a
retirement pension, while the merchant seafarer bought his own clothing and
got social security benefits only after reaching the age of sixty-five. The U.S.
Navy got special privileges, such as free postage, reduced rates for travel,
furloughs, reduced rates for theatre tickets, meals while travelling -- none of
which benefits accrued to the merchant seafarer.(HMC 90-39, TTC p. 1) It was
repeatedly maintained that the Merchant Marine received their benefits “up
front”, which made the Navy resentful, but the latter got residual benefits
which the former did not. A further reiterated assertion was that it is
misinformation that the Merchant Marine made lots of money. Every
repetition bore a further elaboration of the genuine facts of the situation, such
as no deckwork could be accomplished on watch during wartime, because one
of the three watchkeepers would be at the wheel and the other two on lookout
duty. In peacetime those not at the wheel would be working at other regular
shipboard jobs.(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 1)
Although most British respondents agreed there was some minor
resentment and a slight pay differential between DEMS Gunners and their
civilian shipmates, Capt. George Bryson, then an Apprentice, now a retired
Master, disagreed to some extent. He first said there was little contact ashore,
although they got on well aboard and there was never any problem with the
one Royal Marine, about three Navy, and two or three Army gunners. He then
replied to the pay scale query with another question -- “What different rate of
pay?” -- citing his indentures, which allowed him only a total of £10 for his
first year, £12 for his second, £18 for the third, and £20 for the fourth, plus
five pounds for a successful completion of his apprenticeship and twelve
shillings yearly “in lieu of washing”. “So there you are,” he said, with a
chuckle, “I didn‟t go to sea for money!”(HMC 92-66, TTC p. 2) Rex Rothwell
added a reminder that British Apprentices only received one-half the “danger
money” given other seamen, perhaps, he remarked, sarcastically, under the
impression that they were in only half the danger of the others. It was typical
of the Treasury, he said, “to try to save a few bob”.(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 5)
One fact mentioned frequently was that a merchant seaman‟s wages
stopped the moment he left his ship -- for any reason -- but the Armed Guard‟s
continued. This meant not only that the merchant seaman‟s pay stopped when
he was ashore between voyages, but also that his wages ceased when he
abandoned his sinking vessel in a lifeboat or was confined in a prisoner-of-war
camp, whereas the military man‟s continued and his family allotments were
maintained as well. The Merchant Navy family‟s subsistence had ceased with
that of its breadwinner.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 3; HMC 90-37, TTC p. 3; HMC 90-44, TTC
p. 2)
Even during the final fieldwork, in a joint interview with two ex-Royal
Navy escort sailors, one said “I didn‟t know until three years ago that when a
merchant ship was sunk the men‟s wages stopped at the time she was sunk.”
And the other man present, hearing this for the first time, responded, “Oh,
blimey!” in a horrified tone.(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 4)
Some Armed Guard veterans were quite outspoken in the belief that
there was not much resentment over differences in pay, and felt there was not
really that much difference, except for war zone bonuses. After all, the
Merchant Marine is made up of civilians and they are in a war zone. They do
not have to be there. The U.S. Navy could not do without them; it did not
have enough experienced men. Armed Guard Rudy Jasen had no resentment
and thought the Merchant Marine should have been recognised as veterans by
the Government long ago.(HMC 90-4, TTC p. 1) A merchant seaman who had
often fraternised with the Armed Guard echoed him, saying they were buddies,
shipmates; there was nothing about the Merchant Marine being “draft-dodging
millionaires” and the poor Armed Guard “sleeping on shredded wheat beds”.
They played cards, talked together and generally got along well.(HMC 90-11,
TTC p. 1)
Armed Forces also had access to such services as “PXs”,593 which the
Merchant Marine did not.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 1) Resentment could work both
ways; two young merchant seamen showed their ship‟s discharge papers to a
railway conductor in order to ride as “Servicemen”; it annoyed them that
“Servicemen” got reduced train fares and preferential treatment, but it was a
small annoyance.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 3) An American merchant Master noticed
resentment between the two services and disliked it. He said Navy personnel
thought their own food better, but their stores were often marked “Below US
legal standards, but still fit for human consumption.”(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 2)
An Armed Guard veteran designated his service “the orphans of the
Navy,” but said they got a better deal than most other naval personnel because
of the superior victualling of U.S. merchant ships. They got fresh milk and
eggs, fruit, and steaks. Thirty men was the largest complement and they got on
well with the Merchant Marine. Armed Guard were not technically allowed to
work cargo, but they did help once, loading fish for a dollar or two an hour
above their Navy pay.594(HMC 90-20, TTC p. 1) In Russian ports, the locals were
unable to operate the winches and hoists, so the Armed Guard did the work
and were paid overtime.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 1) This happened on British, as well
as American vessels. Artie Lee said relations with the DEMS Gunners were
593
. The PX or Post Exchange had nothing to do with the mails, but was that site on
a military post (station, depot, etc.) where foodstuffs and other necessary items might be
purchased, often at reduced prices. The closest British equivalent was the NAAFI, or Navy,
Army, Air Force Institute.
594
. A dollar or two an hour at that time would have been an exorbitant wage.
“fabulous”. “They were smashing fellows and they were only on the military
pay, which is far, far below what we were on.” So, on some of the ships -well, “I can only speak for the ones I was on -- we always found, give them
their due, the skipper or whoever it come to used to always give them
overtime, y‟know when there was nothing doing, paint or chip the rust off the
deck plates or paint the bulkheads or whatever. Now that got booked into
them as overtime money and they drew that at the end of the trip to make their
money up, because they were goin‟ over in exactly the same conditions we
were.”(HMC 92-48, TTC pp. 6-7) One merchant seaman has a current neighbour
who was a DEMS Gunner and earned “a few bob extra” by acting as Trimmer
for the Firemen in his spare time.(HMC 92-61, TTC p. 5) Assuming the Merchant
Navy was on £20 a month, DEMS would be getting £6-8 a month, only one and
a half or two pounds a week. They got the same food and had their own cabins
and bunks, but mixed socially with the crew. Half the time there was no work,
but if there was, they would do it. They always wanted to work and normally
got it, because even the skipper went out of his way for them. A few hours
here and a few hours there mounted up by the end of the trip. DEMS Gunners
used to be “made up”, volunteered, to get on board a merchant ship, because
they knew it would be a soft touch. They still had to do their job, but got more
money. They doubled their month‟s pay. DEMS were “fat” (figuratively, not
literally.)(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 7)
Newfoundlanders and Canadians, like Americans, noted resentment
about pay differential, but were quick to justify both sides of the controversy
by statements such as: “Merchant seamen got more money, but the hazards
were higher. Twenty-five or twenty-six percent of merchantmen never
survived.” One said a ship he was on was torpedoed and over ninety percent
of those aboard were lost, about ten surviving from a complement of one
hundred and ten. The Merchant Navy‟s hazards were much higher, and pay
only a minor resentment.595 The Navy had not admiration, but sympathy for
merchant seaman.(HMC 91-4, TTC p. 6)
Neither of the M.R.A.596 gunners interviewed noticed any real
resentment toward merchant seafarers for their higher pay scale. One
mentioned the stoppage of merchant seamen‟s wages on the sinking of a vessel
as personal knowledge because his ship, the Bolton Castle was sunk in a North
Russia convoy. He also noted that while they were in a survivors‟ camp near
Archangel, the ship‟s Steward came looking for survivors to sign chits for the
cigarettes they had got from the slop chest597 prior to the sinking.(HMC 92-13,
TTC p. 3; HMC 92-14, TTC p. 4)
A Royal Navy escort sailor concurred, saying the
Navy grumbled some, but “grumbling is what the RN do very well.”598(HMC 9218, TTC p. 6)
Another said they hardly came in contact, even in Russia, and
were never discussed aboard, but he felt there was no resentment over pay
differential; rather the merchant seamen were viewed as “poor sods” because
cargo ships could not move fast enough to escape trouble, and he compared
them with huge lorries on the motorways. “Better them than us,” he said,
adding that if they blew up, the chances of surviving were remote. The
principal attitude toward merchant seafarers was: “Thank God we aren‟t
them!” and the Royal Navy felt their ships “were fit and young compared with
those middle-aged hulks”. They admired the Merchant Navy‟s courage and
bravery, although they themselves did not feel brave. What they felt was less
vulnerable, especially considering some of the cargoes. Also, far fewer Royal
Navy vessels than merchantmen were sunk in Russian convoys. His dealings
with merchant seamen were rare -- perhaps he might meet one on a train
595
. Some information about casualty rates and pay differentials will be found in
Appendix B.
596
. The Maritime Royal Artillery, although both men referred to it as the “Maritime
Regiment”.
597
. The reader is reminded that this is the shipboard canteen where purchases are
“put on a tab” against the buyer‟s wages, to be settled when the ship “pays off”.
598
. This is a paraphrase of a common saying of Tigger, a character in A.A. Milne‟s
children‟s books about “Winnie the Pooh”.
sometime, but he doubted if he met more than a dozen during the entire
war.(HMC 92-21, TTC pp. 2-3) One Royal Navy man went aboard several
merchant ships in Russia, but it was only “professionally”. They were not
“welcomed” aboard, but the reception was not unsociable. Mostly each group
“stuck with their own crowd”, but tried to see the other‟s point of view,
although those would never coincide. The Royal Navy was in small, relatively
“lively” ships trying to protect the Merchant Navy, who were just plodding
along. “Without them there wouldn‟t have been any need for us. But without
us, they‟d get sunk, so....” The other informant in this joint interview said,
“They had an unthankful job, really, merchant seamen. They‟d got to stick
rigidly in these convoy lines unless the signal was given. They couldn‟ -Same as us on the destroyer, we‟re dashin‟ about all over the ocean....
Destroyers bang on twenty-five or thirty knots, they‟re [merchantmen]
plodding along at six or seven in a straight line followin‟ the feller in front of
y‟ ... But apart from that their wages were quite a lot more than ours and
which were only to be expected -- I mean that was a civvy job and it was like
they were goin‟ to work, wasn‟t it?”(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 4)
Pay was not everything. With the granting of veterans‟ status to World
War II merchant seamen by the U.S. and Canadian Governments, the counting
of “sea time” became an important consideration. The U.S. Coast Guard
“„screwed around‟599 with the Merchant Marine counting sea time”. If the
same had been done to military personnel, some would never have got their
discharge.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 4) Time aboard ship in port does not count as sea
time for Merchant Marine veterans.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 2) The pay vs. benefits
debate was summed up by Cliff Rehkopf, who said that, in the United States,
the so-called “benefits” accruing from the 1988 bill conferring veterans‟ status
on merchant mariners meant only that “if you die your wife gets a flag, you get
599
. In this context, “to screw around with” means intentionally foul up, botch, or
bungle.
a headstone, and you can be buried in a veterans‟ cemetery.”(HMC 90-39, TTC p.
1)
If veterans‟ status and benefits had been conferred on merchant seamen
immediately at the end of the war, the recipients would have found them of
greater value.
One frequent assertion, especially from the North American contingent,
was that relationships depended on individual personalities, especially on that
of the Gunnery Officer, as mentioned earlier in the “90-day wonder” stories.
One man said his personal experience was only of friendly rivalry, although he
knew of vessels where there was constant bickering.(HMC 90-2, TTC p. 1) The
military for the most part maintained a careful distance, with separate quarters
and a separate mess, but fraternisation, especially between younger
crewmembers and young gunners, was not infrequent. They “worked, ate, and
told lies together”.(HMC 90-50, TTC p. 2) The relationship depended on
circumstances, however. A merchant seaman who had once worked in a Navy
Yard felt he had more sympathy for the Armed Guard and escort sailors than
most of his co-workers.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 2)
It was rough on the gun crew the whole time. Most were sloppy,
unmilitary outfits; maybe they picked the “screw-ups” for the Armed Guard.
One Gunnery Officer assigned Hank Adams to a battle station in the
ammunition hold, when, as Bosun, his Merchant Marine emergency station
was on the bridge. There was always a conflict of wages. The Merchant
Marine were volunteers, but the Armed Guard was at the same risk level. The
Merchant Marine had the highest casualty rate during the war; the United
States Navy had the lowest; but the Armed Guard was probably equal to the
former in its relative casualty figures.600 They had the same danger, but less
pay, and benefits were of no value to them until after they had returned from
600
. Compare Chapter Three, footnote 21., and Chapter Six, Section B, as well as
Appendix B.
the war. At the time, as has been said, you only thought about “your skin and
a buck to buy a beer”.(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 3) Bob DeWees felt they “got along
real well”; all were decent people; and there were no “eight-balls”.(HMC 90-57,
TTC p. 2)
The point was made that there were three hundred men on a Naval
ship, doing the jobs of about fifty on a merchant vessel. One merchant
seafarer on each watch would fire six boilers and tend water. The U.S. Navy
had six men tending the burners and two Watertenders on each watch on a ship
of similar size. Why should three hundred men be put on a single ship -- if the
ship goes, they are all lost -- when you could have six ships with fifty men
each? It is government idiocy.(HMC 90-44 TTC p. 3)
One thing the British had which North Americans did not was the
system called T124 and T124X. Under this system, merchant mariners stayed
on their vessel after she had been commandeered by the Admiralty, and
continued to work for Merchant Service pay, essentially doing the same job as
in peacetime but under naval orders. On about Tom Burton‟s second-to-last
voyage before the war, the Captain mustered the ship‟s company on the
promenade deck and said it looked like war. He told the crew they could leave
if they wished, and would be given sufficient time to do so, but they were
being given the chance to volunteer. Burton did so, as did most of his
shipmates. Very few left the ship, but all knew war was imminent. They were
in Cherbourg the day before the war; the following day they got down Channel
at eleven AM and were just past Land‟s End when they got the message that
war had been declared.(HMC 91-7, TTC p. 2)
Joe Cunningham also spoke of the Merchant Fleet Support ships which
carried Merchant Navy crew, and likened T124/T124X to the press gang
system. When one signed on under this system, one could be transferred from
a Merchant Navy to a Royal Navy vessel at any moment. The famed Jervis
Bay601 was under T124X articles as an Armed Merchant Cruiser and she only
had a four-inch World War I field piece aft.602 Of the one vessel he lost
through enemy action, Cunningham said, “When I got torpedoed, I couldn‟t
get me arse outta that ship fast enough! There was no heroism.”(HMC 92-7, TTC
pp. 2-3)
One of the most notable differences between military and merchant
seafarers ashore was that the civilians had no uniform by which they could be
easily recognised as playing an active part on the war effort. The British
Merchant Navy were issued a small silver badge which they could wear pinned
to lapel or cap when ashore, but it was not conspicuous, and was often
overlooked the casual observer. The Royal Navy was always in uniform.
“They could recognise us, but we couldn‟t recognise them."(HMC 92-65, TTC p.
4)
U.S. Maritime Service training schools issued a sort of uniform resembling
both the U.S. Navy and U.S. Coast Guard uniforms, but trimmed in red.
Merchant seamen joked that they were “in the Russian Navy”, and were
sometimes mistaken for the same when ashore.(HMC 90-24, TTC p. 4; HMC 90-74)
At Officers‟ Candidate School, Clint Johnson got a uniform -- “an absolute
necessity for a young man in those days to ensure a satisfactory social life” -which was identical to a U.S. Navy Chief Petty Officer‟s except for the
insignia on the sleeve and on the hat. There was rivalry amongst even the
Services for the best-looking uniforms, the “flashiest” being the U.S. Marine
Corps‟ “dress blues”.(HMC 90-24, TTC pp. 3-4) Merchant seamen who were not
issued uniforms occasionally tried to rig up facsimiles, but sometimes had
problems with MPs603 in port cities as a result.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 3)
601
. The reader is reminded that the Jervis Bay was lost in an heroic action defending
the convoy she escorted from a German surface raider.
602
. If you place a gun forward of the bridge, the vessel becomes a man-of-war; abaft
the bridge, weaponry is considered defensive.
603
. Military Police.
The wife of one Royal Navy informant belonged to a social club for the
Forces, through which she escorted Allied servicemen (including British) to
theatres and such. She said the rivalry was surprising. When the man who is
now her husband came to visit her, dissension between Merchant Navy and
Royal Navy was patent, the RN being “snobby” and thinking themselves better
than the Merchant Navy. Her husband retorted that of course they felt so, as
they were better dressed [in uniform] ashore, though not always at sea. Naval
ships were always immaculately painted, too, unlike the merchantmen.
Commercial owners were not generous with paint. There were more people to
do the jobs on HM ships, too, although merchantmen carried much larger crews
then than they do today. Merchant seamen who attached themselves to the
Royal Navy personnel ashore in Russia were nearly always “DBS”.(HMC 92-18,
TTC p. 6)604
Another Royal Navy rating said the Merchant Service usually had
their own places, clubs, in Hull and elsewhere. The Royal Navy were not
turned away, but most sailors went into an ordinary pub.(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 4)
A few unique circumstances occurred, which bear repetition, but which
do not fall into any of the areas already discussed:
Once, near New Guinea, there were two ships supplying
ammunition and stores for the United States Navy. When one
of the two had to return to Australia for fresh supplies, they
would leave their live ammunition with the remaining ship and
take the other‟s empty shells for return. The transfer was hot,
nasty work and when the Armed Guard officer ordered the gun
crew to assist, they refused. The next day the gun crew was
removed; it was called mutiny and there was a court martial.
The ship had no gun crew for about four months thereafter, so
they were lucky there was no trouble.(HMC 89-6, TTC pp. 1-2)
The U.S. Navy did not always treat merchant crews kindly.
Once, in Trinidad, they were not allowed onto the dock for a
ballgame, although they were in port for an extended period.
The informant had served in both the U.S. Navy and the
Merchant Marine and felt allegiances to and grievances against
both.(HMC 90-3, TTC p. 3)
604
. The reader is reminded of the term Distressed British Seamen.
While berthed and unloading in Cherbourg, one Engine Room
rating relieved an over-exhausted Army truck driver while the
latter slept in the seaman‟s bunk.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 2)
In Gourock, Scotland, before one Russian convoy, the U.S.
Navy, doubting the loyalty of the Merchant Marine, posted an
armed Armed Guard to watch the steering engine, and he was
found shot dead the following morning. The subsequent
investigation concluded it had been suicide as a result of
depression and the informant never remembers another guard
being posted. The gun crew‟s accommodations on that ship
consisted of two converted shops near the steering engine. It
was terribly noisy, as the informant knows, because he himself
lived back there. He does not know who found the body, but it
was not he. That was the only casualty on the entire trip.(HMC
90-52, TTC p. 1)
A Newfoundlander said they got along “Lovely! Great!” His IrishAmerican mother had brought him up to hate the snobby English, but he
learned to like the English working class(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 4) An Englishman
said they were just there, doing their job, and there was no animosity.(HMC 9245, TTC p. 5)
Similar impressions seem to have held with regard to all other
shipboard group relationships. Despite nearly a hundred years of traditional
animosity, for example, the relationships between Departments seem to have
been generally pleasant and, when not really good, merely a friendly rivalry.
B.
RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN SHIPBOARD DEPARTMENTS
Relationships between members of different shipboard “Departments”
were never predictable at the best of times, and were possibly even less so
during the war. A great deal depended on the common-sense and likewise the
volatility of the individuals involved. Some were steeped in the tradition that
“oil and water do not mix”, others considered the Stewards‟ Department might
better be labelled the “Stupid” Department, but the vast majority could be
counted upon to forget such differences in hazardous situations and to pull not
only their own weight, but often that of their shipmates from other
Departments as well. How did they get along? “Out of necessity, very
well.”(HMC 92-69, TTC p. 1)
The origins of the “oil and water” dispute lay primarily between
Captains and Chief Engineers, and although, in most cases, the rivalry was
superficial and without malice, they were always nominally at loggerheads, as
each group considered itself more vital to the operation of the vessel than the
other. Deck Officers said they could get on very well without the Engineers -they could always use the saloon carpets as sails, if necessary. Engineers said
they would like to see them try -- they would get nowhere without
Engineers.(HMC 91-1, TTC pp. 4-5) A well-known nautical joke, a favourite
amongst both Engineers and Deck Officers, and in circulation on both sides of
the Atlantic, was cited by at least two informants to illustrate the universality
of this situation and its lack of gravity:
The Captain and Chief Engineer trade places for a day at
sea, each saying the other‟s job requires no skill whatsoever.
Once the switch has been made, the Captain, after much ado,
calls the bridge to ask the Chief how to start the engines. The
Chief replies that the other should not worry about it, as they
have been aground for the last fifteen minutes.(HMC 90-50, TTC
pp. 2-3; HMC 92-28, TTC p. 3)
One of the oldest informants, himself a Chief Engineer, said, “There is
an old saying that „oil and water will never mix‟, but they will.” In any wellrun, efficient ship, the Mates and Engineers are friends. Of course they have
arguments, but family members argue amongst themselves and still love each
other. He pointed to the lifetime friendship between himself and another
informant who was a Deck Officer as representative. Several informants cited
as a truism a universally prevalent saying, often drawn as a cartoon: “The Old
Man [Captain] points her and the Chief605 pushes her.”(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 3;
HMC 92-28, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-68, TTC p. 5)
This is usually depicted as an
oversized figure standing at the wheel of a scaled-down ship while another
oversized figure swims behind the vessel, literally propelling it by pushing.
The Chief Engineer quoted above said they were all good friends then, but in
modern diesel ships it is different. There is no soul.606 There are also more
accidents now, but they were previously rare unless caused by storms, because
the men worked so well together.(HMC 92-28, TTC p. 3) Position-keeping in a
convoy situation required co-operation.(HMC 90-54, TTC p. 1) The Departments
got along more or less well, although, like any factory or workplace there were
certain cliques,(HMC 92-9, TTC p. 4) and one respondent said he particularly
liked the term “friendly rivalry”, because the insults were more jokes than
anything else. They were natural friendships, never uncivil, but always putting
each other down.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 3)
A Newfoundland Deck Officer said there was less rivalry between
Engine and Deck Departments than I might have heard. Generally the Chief
Engineer and the Captain would have a drink together before meals; they sat
next to each other, though at their own tables, “and it was the same all the way
605
. Despite the fact that the First Officer is also known as the Chief Mate or Chief
Officer and that there were usually at least a Chief Steward and a Chief Cook aboard most
vessels which carried passengers, the one-word term “Chief” will always be assumed by
mariners to refer to the Chief Engineer unless context is given. See Section C for a relevant
anecdote.
606
. Cf. the quote from Horace Beck in Chapter One.
down the line. ... If you want somethin‟ ‟specially, you‟d go and you‟d ask for
it and somebody got it.” If for some reason they could not get it (more steam,
more speed, etc.) you would get an explanation why not -- generally good
sound reasons. You would get it if they could give it to you. He had heard of
interdepartmental friction. It usually happened on long voyages. It could
happen to anybody and still does. It is the result of a sort of “cabin fever” and
causes one to strike out at those nearby. Recently he visited a local vessel
where an entire meal passed without verbal interchange. He thought “Once
you lose the ability to pull the other guy‟s leg, a little chaffing, you‟re headed
for trouble.” It was too quiet, but this rarely happens.(HMC 91-5, TTC p. 6) A
British Deck Officer agreed that rivalry existed, but it was usually goodnatured, although there were occasional “awkward cusses” in either
Department. This man‟s father was a Marine Engineer,607 whom he quoted as
having been accustomed to say, “Deck Officers are only Engineers with their
brains knocked out.”(HMC 92-23, TTC p. 2) They got along quite well except for
the odd dining setup. The Master, all Mates, the Chief, First, and Second
Engineers, ate together in the saloon, and the Apprentices as well. All other
Engineers ate separately in their own mess, probably so the Junior Engineers
did not have to make such an effort to be clean and tidy. It was a strange
custom which faded out during and immediately after the war.(HMC 92-31, TTC
p. 1)
Engineers often had their own mess, separate from the Deck Officers‟,
especially at sea, as it was more convenient in light of their working
conditions, dirt, and grime. They often joined when in harbour, though, and
the Captain and Chief frequently dined together, especially in harbour.(HMC 9271, TTC p. 1)
Capt. Laurie James emphasised that Departmental chauvinism
was “not the attitude at all, if you wanted to keep a tight ship. You had to keep
607
. I found this an unusual situation, though he said it was not.
good relations with the lower ranks -- work with them and they‟ll work with
you.”(HMC 92-68, TTC p. 5)608
Well over half of those interviewed characterised interdepartmental
relations as fine, although a few added there was always a friendly rivalry,
which the majority of the British sample tended to specify as “the old oil-andwater thing” or “oil and water never mix”.(HMCs 91-1, 92-5, 92-23, 92-28, 92-33,
92-41, 92-42, 92-56, 92-66, 92-68)
North Americans tended to refer more
generically to joking or teasing one another about imagined distinctions or
minor chauvinism.(HMCs 90-11, 90-12, 90-16, 90-24, 90-46, 90-53, 90-67, 90-69) Only
one said there was at best an “armed truce” between the Departments, who
were always looking for an axe to grind when there was none,(HMC 90-36, TTC
p. 1)
and the diminutive minority which admitted having seen “really bitter”
antagonism on a regular basis was so small as to be insignificant.(HMC 91-12,
TTC p. 3)
About fifteen of the total interviewees said it all depended on the
individuals involved, especially the heads of Departments -- the Captain, Chief
Engineer, and Chief Steward, while a similar number said there was so little
interaction between Departments even ashore that relationships between them
were irrelevant. A spokesman for the former attitude maintained that
interdepartmental relationships were generated by Department heads and the
happiness of a ship depended on her Master.(HMC 89-2, TTC p. 3) As regards the
latter view, one respondent described ships as rather like boardinghouses with
three different groups of lodgers; interdepartmental relationships were civil,
but not close. They never worked together, but might occasionally go ashore
together.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 2) Another recalled being on a coal-burner with a
large crew, where, in hot weather, they sat on the after hatch to socialise. The
608
. See also the following section, Section C, for relations between certificated and
non-certificated personnel.
Deck crew‟s accommodation was on the port side and the Engine crew‟s to
starboard. There was no socialisation and very little interaction of any kind
between the two groups. They were rather like two large parties at different
tables in the same restaurant -- this despite the fact that they were on the same
ship for long periods. It was the same when they went ashore. They were not
together. Each stayed with his own group.(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 3) An almost
inconsequential minority of informants held, quite reasonably, that
interdepartmental attitudes varied from ship to ship.(HMC 90-42, TTC p. 2; HMC
90-45, TTC p. 1; HMC 90-55, TTC p. 1; HMC 90-71, TTC p. 3; HMC 92-51, TTC p. 5)
Two Britishers who had spent an extended period as prisoners-of-war
recalled that, while Departments were not overly friendly nor inclined to
intermingle aboard ship, the situation in prison camps was more egalitarian.
Everyone was the same; all were individuals; you could deal with whomever
you liked; and everyone pulled together.(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 1; HMC 92-58, TTC p.
4)
Chief Engineer Thomas Brunskill had a bad ship once. The then Chief
had been lax in his duties, and was removed on the Old Man‟s complaint. His
replacement was a nice man, but should never have been at sea -- he was too
nice. He made a single voyage and would not continue to work with the Old
Man, who turned him into a bundle of nerves. As Mr. Brunskill was out of a
ship at that time, he was called in. Chiefs and Masters always have to see a
Director before leaving and on returning from a voyage. The Director who
interviewed Brunskill was “pretty bad” as well. They also have compulsory
inspection by a Director before leaving; this did not look good to Mr.
Brunskill. Before they had got through the Bay of Biscay, the Old Man sent
for Brunskill, who refused to go until he was asked, rather than ordered. He
and the Captain then “had a right royal row and were the best of friends ever
after”. When they arrived home, the Old Man was asked how he had got on
with the Chief [Brunskill]. The Captain said he would not sail without him.
They got on fine after that. The skipper was a nice man, but a bully. Mr.
Brunskill was not scared, so they got on okay.(HMC 92-29, TTC p. 3)
Another Engineer spoke of interdepartmental relationships in
somewhat humorous, but nonetheless illustrative, terms. All ships‟
Departments, he said, were “united against the Navy Armed Guard, but
seriously it all depended on one‟s social, experiential and educational level.
Ordinary Seamen, Wipers, and Messmen were enemies. Able Seamen,
Firemen/Oilers [Greasers], and Cooks got along okay, but didn‟t socialise
much within the other Departments, even ashore. Officers were basically
friendly with one another. The Chief Engineer and the Captain are best
friends, because they are the representatives of management. They have to
take care of the „idiots‟. As in modern race relations, the troublemakers are
the failures who prefer to blame their own failure on others, or else they are
ignorant beginners.”(HMC 90-8, TTC p. 2)
Speaking of British sea training ships, such as the Worcester, Conway,
and Indefatigable, one interviewee said the latter was primarily for deckhands,
ratings, and they were usually orphans, but the other training ships provided
Deck officers. There was no such “cloak” for Engineers, who might come
from anywhere as long as they were experienced with tools. During the war
many such “did not have the proper groundwork” and shipping companies
“got some real oddballs”.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 6)
More than ten percent of those interviewed mentioned the quality and
quantity of food as a factor in shipboard relations.609 Some even claimed
certain Captains and Chief Stewards had “fiddled” ships‟ stores to their own
financial advantage and thus short-changed the crews, who were
609
. See also Chapter Three, under “Conditions Aboard”, where the quality of
victualling is also discussed.
understandably irritable as a result. In Chapter Three, the term “bad feeder”610
was introduced, and the question “how did they feed?” invariably elicited an
immediate and vigorous response from any informant, whether this response
was positive or negative in character. A happy ship depends on a good
Stewards‟[Catering] Department; it is not so much the amount of the food as
its quality and preparation. Cooks were mainly good, as many came from the
U.S. Maritime Service training schools, so there was no problem.(HMC 90-45,
TTC p. 1)
“A „hungry‟ ship is an unhappy ship,” said another informant, who
recalled a voyage on which the Chief Steward always wore a lifejacket on
deck, in case someone tried to throw him overboard because he was receiving
a “kickback” from the company for food stores returned at the end of the
voyage.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3)
A group interview at Sailors‟ Snug Harbor, an American home for
retired seafarers, produced elaborations on this theme. A retired Master,
resident there for twenty-five years, compared the home itself to a shipboard
situation.(HMC 90-55, TTC p. 1) “The Lord made the food,” said he, “The devil
made the cooks.” He then proceeded to tell of a case on the Pacific Coast of
the U.S., when a Cook allegedly survived after being thrown overboard twenty
miles at sea. He also cited as fact a version of a common contemporary
legend611 in which an Oriental messman who has repeatedly been the victim of
practical jokes, such as having his shoes nailed to the deck,612 informs the
610
. The reader is reminded that this term indicates a vessel aboard which the quality
and/or quantity of victuals available to the general crew is below a reasonable standard.
Likewise a ship with an abundance of high-quality food would be termed a good feeder. Both
individual vessels and shipping companies were commonly rated on how well they fed.
611
. I prefer this term to the more prevalent “Urban Legend” used by Jan Harold
Brunvand in his series of published collections or “Urban Myth” as used by two men currently
producing similar works for popular consumption in Great Britain. These narratives are
legends by the definition of modern academic folklore and they are contemporary because they
are presently in circulation, despite some having originated in the distant past. “Urban” is a
misnomer, as they are not limited in circulation to urban areas and nor do they fit the definition
of “Myth” used by professional folklorists and ethnographers of the Twentieth Century. For
further discussion of this theme, see Gillian Bennett, “What's „Modern‟ About the Modern
Legend?”, Fabula 26 (1985), 219-229.
612
. The informant assured me that there was much jealousy aboard and such tricks
were common. He also said shipboard fare is much better since there have been training
schools for Marine Cooks.
officers when he pays off at the end of the voyage that he has regularly
urinated in their coffee as a form of retaliation.(HMC 90-55, TTC p. 3) A second
retired Captain stated that he was once aboard a ship with three Native
American Cooks from Arizona who regularly got drunk; that a crew ashore in
New Orleans once tied a Cook to a telephone pole and sailed without him; and
that Cooks in North Carolina613 are so terrible that a crew discovering the same
aboard “would‟ve hung ‟em to the yardarm.”(HMC 90-55, TTC p. 3) The one exCook in the group told of Cooks being killed for various reasons, and said
once, going down the Mexican coast, they had to keep a lookout for the body
of a [Chief] Steward from another vessel who had been killed and thrown
overboard because of the [assumed poor quality of the] food.(HMC 90-55, TTC p.
3)
A Californian said the serious problems had all been earlier, when all
Stewards were considered “sissies” and the Cook was usually a disabled
seaman. He believes he himself must have been a good Cook, as he never had
to buy his own drinks in port.(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 2) A British AB said, “Keep in
with the Cook; fall out with anyone but the Cook.” It was he who volunteered
that there were no female Stewards except on big ships, and that Stewards
were often thought of as having homosexual tendencies.614(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 4)
A British Wireless Operator opined the Catering Department was “a
mess” because although some Chief Stewards were very good, others were
“jumped up people” who were “making money out of your food”. He
illustrated this theory with a story about some spoiled cheese which was
supposed to be “Danish blue”, but was “Danish grey” because it was so rotten:
The same piece of cheese had been aboard throughout the
previous trip and had been sent back to the galley several times,
but the Chief Steward kept replacing it on the table. “Nobody
could say boo to him.” Chief Stewards were always “fiddling”.
They often sold bottles of sauce ashore in India for whatever
613
. Sailors‟ Snug Harbor is located in the town of Sea Level, North Carolina.
. See Chapter Three, Section C for more about the importance of Cooks and
victualling to the merchant marine and see above, in the introductory part of this chapter for
more about seamen‟s attitudes toward homosexuality.
614
they could get. The Wireless Operator took a piece of the
cheese ashore in London and asked the authorities “Are we
supposed to eat that?” The reply was, “I wouldn‟t.” The
Catering Superintendent said he would come down to the ship
and “have a word”, but the Chief Steward had already had the
cheese passed as fit to eat by the Port of London Food
Inspector. The Superintendent, returning to interview the
complaining Wireless Operator and have a second look, agreed
the cheese was, indeed, inedible. The Wireless Operator was
glad of this decision, as he had intended to suggest the Port
Inspector take it for his own personal use. Most people were
prepared to keep quiet and put up with that sort of behaviour
from Chief Stewards, but the Wireless Operator had always
been a bit of a rebel in that respect. If you did not speak up,
you could not blame anyone.(HMC 92-63, TTC p. 3)
The general approach to the isolation or segregation between
Departments which prevailed on many ships was that there might have been a
bit of interdepartmental rivalry, or a joking aura of competition, but it was
trivial, as each Department tended to stick somewhat clannishly to its own
crowd.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-11, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-37, TTC p. 1; HMC 90-58,
TTC p. 2; HMC 92-44, TTC p. 6; HMC 92-35, TTC p. 5)
One Britisher felt there was a
lot of interaction and friendly, good-natured rivalry on smaller coastal vessels,
but large passenger boats encouraged isolation and segregation to such an
extent that the average seafarer would not even notice interactions between
Departments.(HMC 92-10, TTC p. 4) An American said interdepartmental
relations were especially good on tankers, because there was so little
difference between the duties of the Deck and Engine crews aboard them.
Perhaps the Engine Department was not quite as “visible” as the Deck
Department, but most of their time was actually spent on deck.(HMC 90-43, TTC
p. 1)
Some Deck Department personnel rarely considered the Engine crew,
but felt sorry for their more dangerous position below decks, especially when
engaged “in action”.(HMC 90-54, TTC p. 1) One man worked in the Engine
Room only once and hates going into it to this day. He never would do it
again, because you are under water, not in your element, closed in, and
confined.(HMC 91-5, TTC p. 6) Once, however, as Acting Coal-Passer off
Newfoundland, a Deck rating was glad of the warmth of the Engine Room.
They were dirty from the coal, had no soap but a semi-liquid stuff, and all had
crab lice, but they were not freezing on the exposed deck. He also explained
why he did not like to bunk against the bulkhead below the waterline, because
the sound of the moving water made him salivate. Crew‟s quarters on Liberty
ships were well above the waterline. This man was interviewed jointly with an
Engineer, who responded that he always felt more secure in the Engine Room
at night. In the dark the ship seemed “invincible”, but he worried during the
day.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 3)615
There were, however, a number of asides relating to interdepartmental
fraternisation. Interdepartmental friendships developed most often between
the younger crewmembers who found interaction with men of their own age
group easier than with the older prewar seamen, whatever their
Department.(HMC 90-13, TTC p. 3, HMC 90-29, TTC p. 1; HMC 92-42, TTC p. 6)616
There was always great rivalry between Deck and Engine Departments, but
Apprentices usually found Junior Engineers more sympathetic than the Mates.
They often felt “hard-done-by” by their own Department, but experienced a
fellow feeling with the Engineers.(HMC 92-26, TTC pp. 5-6)
A number of testimonies accented the improvement in
interdepartmental relations during and immediately after the war.(HMC 90-37,
TTC p. 1; HMC 92-42, TTC p. 6)
One retired Master said there was some “oil-and-
water” with old Captains and Chief Engineers. “They were going to see that it
stayed that way and I didn‟t like that at all. It was an old-fashioned attitude
and it died out very quickly, as far as I was concerned, any rate.”(HMC 92-68,
615
. See also Chapter Four, Section B, on whether men felt more confident in
daylight or darkness aboard ship in wartime.
616
. One rating sympathised heartily with the difficulties faced by some older
officers who had worked for years to achieve their positions before the war started and “a
bunch of young clowns” came aboard to run the ship. (HMC 90-38, TTC p. 3)
TTC p. 1)
It was men like these “old Captains and old Chief Engineers” who
castigated young Cadets and Junior Engineers for fraternising. Keith Marshall
was a Cadet for two years with a Chief Mate who consistently tried to outdo
the Chief Engineer. When Marshall invited a Junior Engineer into his room
for a beer one evening, the Mate told him he “would prefer it if [Marshall] did
not socialise with the Engineers.” Deck officers thought themselves above the
“ginger beers”.617 It used to be an old saying that if you had a party with drink
it was sure to be the Junior Engineer who was sick on the table.(HMC 92-30,
TTC p. 2)
When Fred McKamy, a Deck Officer, was studying aboard the
Marcus Daly for his upgrading though, he did so in the cabin of one of the
Engineers when the occupant was on watch.(HMC 90-28, TTC p. 1) And one
Third Mate, on a vessel whose Third Engineer had been an Academy
classmate of his, was invited to a rum-and-Coke celebration party in the
latter‟s room at midnight in mid-ocean to celebrate the revolution counter
(rather like a maritime odometer) “turning 0000” on their shared watch.(HMC
90-64, TTC pp. 3-4)
Another Third Officer became friendly with a young
Messman and, after a period of teasing, invited him to the wheelhouse and
allowed him to steer briefly, under close supervision. It was the only time the
Messman was ever on the bridge. He said the different Departments had a
good time together in the messhall, but there was not usually much mixing
with the Navy men.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 1)
The phrase “we were all in the same boat -- literally” was employed
more than once, and one Department might assist another when the workload
was unbalanced.(HMC 90-28, TTC p. 1) A strong trade unionist said some
jealousy did exist between crafts. They were distinct resources and were
“guarded to the death” -- rather like being supporters of archrival athletic
teams.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 3) It was stressed that the wartime situation actually
617
. Rhyming slang for Engineers. Mr. Marshall himself is unsure where that bit of
rhyming slang originated.
improved interdepartmental relations. One man said there was a good team
spirit during the war, but rivalry in peacetime; the war melded them
together.(HMC 92-3, TTC p. 2) and another asserted that they were “oil and water,
but mostly friendly, especially during the war. People were very close then.”
He added that he could not recall any specific unpleasant incidents and that no
great antagonism existed, even ashore.(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 3) A British Wireless
Officer contended there were no serious differences between Departments, as
wartime seafaring was too serious for rivalry.(HMC 92-15, TTC p. 1)
One informant stressed the fact that he could get along even with those
whose individual reputations were bad.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 1) Others
emphasised that the only major discord occurred in port and largely resulted
from overindulgence in alcohol.(HMC 91-2, TTC p. 1; HMC 92-11, TTC p. 2) Bill
Fortune said everything was okay until the first port, then “When the booze got
in, the wit come out.” There might be the odd row aboard, but it was
rare.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 5) A Canadian said he drank as much as any, but
always managed to avoid fisticuffs as he was smart enough to know when to
stop drinking. “Next to Americans, Canadians can get the drunkest in the
world. The Americans are worst; the Canadians second.”(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 3)
Blame for these confrontations was most often laid at the door of the “black
gang”,618 who were reputed to be more quarrelsome than other ratings.(HMC 9210, TTC p. 4)
The Captain, as not only the highest rank aboard ship, but also the
apex of the Deck Department, often considered his seamen “the bright-eyed
ones -- they couldn‟t do any wrong” if altercations did arise.(HMC 91-11, TTC p.
1)
Each Department had a general reputation within the Merchant
Service, despite the fact that each customarily maintained its own boundaries.
618
. Engine Room ratings. The reader is reminded that this term was deemed
“politically correct” for almost a century.
The Deck Department often thought themselves superior because of their
seamanship. No one ever said it, but all knew the Catering Department were
at the bottom, then the Engine Room, but all kept to themselves. “Oh, they
spoke to one another, but if the whole gang was sitting playing cards, each had
their own game and you did not join another Department‟s game or go into
their cabins unless you were invited.”(HMC 92-35, TTC p. 5; HMC 92-48, TTC p. 3)
On merchantmen the Deck Department was always cleaner,(HMC 90-71,
TTC p. 3)
and Stokers on coal-burners were pariahs,(HMC 90-37, TTC p. 1) but
these reputations were reversed in the Royal Navy, where the Stokers‟
messdecks were always the cleanest in the ship and Wireless Operators were
“idle and scruffy”.(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 6)619 The Deck Department looked down
on the others, especially the Stewards, and thought themselves superior,
although they really were not. The Engine crew had their own quarters and
kept to themselves. On coal-burners the Engine crowd was always black and
dirty, and the Deck crew naturally tried to avoid them somewhat. There was
no real animosity aboard, they only kept to themselves, but ashore the Firemen
“went berserk” and always fought a lot, especially in Australia.(HMC 92-57, TTC
p. 2)
On some ships the forecastle deck was split in two down the middle with
Engine and Deck crews on opposite sides. The ABs on Deck and the Firemen
were hard men. And there were regional rivalries as well -- London against
Liverpool, Sunderland or Newcastle against Swansea, and variations of all
that, as well as standard types of bigotry.620 In general terms, though, they got
on pretty well, considering the conditions under which they lived.(HMC 92-56,
TTC p. 3)
It was not bad, but there is always an animosity between Deck and
Engine Room -- and Catering. “Oh, yes, Firemen and Sailors,621 there‟s always
been that and I s‟pose there always will be. It‟s different now, of course,
619
. This will be further developed in Chapter Six.
. See Section D for further explication of ethnic and regional prejudices.
621
. That is to say Deck crew.
620
because now they‟re „Utility‟ and they mix.” Then it was strong enough to call
animosity, rather than friendly rivalry. All were tolerated, but Firemen were
“beneath” the Deck Department. Accommodations were segregated of course.
The forecastle or common area for accommodation was in the bows where all
the noise was. Firemen just went down below and shovelled coal. That was
all they had to do, although there is an art in firing.(HMC 92-60, TTC p. 7)
Sailors and Firemen were always close -- to a point. The
Stewards, there was always a slight feelin‟ that the Stewards
were different. They lived amidships and they were slightly
different, although it was only a sort of an imaginary barrier.
You might -- as a young boy I would still make friends with the
young Steward boys, ‟cause they were, the age group would be
right. ... But generally the Firemen and Sailors were slightly,
always slightly different. They always seemed to be a rougher
team than the Stewards. ... If there was animosity, it would be
prob‟ly over food. ... That sometimes created a little problem,
because the Cook and the Stewards were together and
obviously the Cook looked after the, er, the Chief Steward and
the Cook looked after the food. And a lot of ships weren‟t very
good at feedin‟ you -- they varied, of course.(HMC 92-54, TTC p.
3)
An Engineer said Stewards are called the “stupid department”, Deck
sailors are called “rope-chokers”, and the “black gang” are called
“underground savages”, but it is not really very serious.(HMC 90-8, TTC p. 2)
Another said there was some animosity toward the Stewards‟ Department, but
it was mostly racial in origin.(HMC 90-35, TTC p. 1)622 One American
respondent‟s brother-in-law had been in the Merchant Service prior to the First
World War and considered the Stewards‟ Department the “low men on the
totem pole” and the Deck Department “elite”. The respondent himself thought
the Engine Department the elite, as they had a larger number of advanced
ratings below the licensed personnel than any other Department. Of course
many parallel Deck ratings, such as Lamptrimmer and Carpenter, have
disappeared over the years. Even Radio Officers are being phased out,
although he always envied the Radioman on a merchant ship.(HMC 90-74, TTC
622
. See footnote 63., above.
p. 5)
An American who sailed as Electrician said he was always on freighters,
never tankers, as freighters need Electricians for the electric winches. The
corresponding tanker job rating level would be Pumpman. A “Deck Engineer”
is two jumps below Chief Electrician, level with Second Electrician. The only
ship he ever sailed on that carried a Deck Engineer was a ship with steam
winches.(HMC 90-72, TTC p. 6) The British rating corresponding to Deck
Engineer is Donkeyman, because he is in charge of the “donkey engine” used
for deck equipment. Joe Cunningham found it amusing that I thought the
American term “Deck Engineer” had a more elegant ring than the British
“Donkeyman”.(HMC 92-7, TTC pp. 3-4)623
Englishman Dick Playfer said the Deck Department, both officers and
ratings, tended to look down upon the other two Departments, seeing a definite
pecking order, with Deck at the top, Catering at the bottom, and Engine in
between. Stewards “were considered the lowest form of life” and the Radio
Officers “a necessary evil at best”. Before the war, a ship carried only one
Radio Operator, but during the war they carried three or even four, as it was
necessary to man the radio twenty-four hours a day, and they worked shifts.
He thinks they were regarded as a new, slightly upstart breed of officer and
some contempt was shown them by both regular officers and sailors. They did
not have the “aura” of being seafarers; they were “odd man out”; even
Stewards, the lowest, were seafarers, but Radio Officers were not.(HMC 92-24,
TTC p. 2)
My general feeling toward Radio/Wireless Operators at the beginning
of the research was that they must occupy a position aboard a merchant ship
rather like the traditional place of the governess in a wealthy household -wavering between being treated as family and being treated as servant.
623
. But then the British term “redundancy” is far more refined than the North
American “laid off”, so what would you?
Wireless Operators were neither Deck Department (although they worked
above decks) nor Engine (although they worked with machinery); neither
officer (as there was no Department beneath them) nor rating (as they were
better educated than most and required a licence to do their job). Almost
everyone except Radio Operators themselves agreed with this assessment, but
at least one was vehement in his claims that Wireless Operators were Deck
Officers and entitled to all the privileges associated therewith. Amongst other
things, he advanced the information that Radio Officers were not assigned to
ships through a Pool, as were DEMS, merchant seamen, and M.R.A., but were
hired and given assignments by the wireless company. It was not a good
system, but has persisted to the present, and was widespread during the Second
World War. Not the only method, it was the simplest at the time, and in the
end operated much like the Pools.(HMC 92-15, TTC p. 3) Another Radio Officer
sometimes acted as “policeman” and went to bail crewmembers out of jail in
port. He managed to make himself useful and got on well with most of the
officers.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 2)
On larger passenger ships, the Deck Department enjoyed the most
privileges of the three. Deck Officers ate with passengers in the saloon, while
Engineers had their own messroom. This made sense, because they then did
not have to be so clean. Most of the Engineers‟ off-duty time was spent in
“patrol suits”624 -- like a uniform, but just buttoned up, without collar or tie. As
the war progressed, especially on cargo ships, officers of both Departments ate
together and became more integrated.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 6) The source of the
manpower supply for Deck Officers was training ships and this made for an
“old boys‟ network”. There was no such “cloak” for Engineers, who could
come from anywhere as long as they had adequate experience with tools.
When you have served your apprenticeship, you can work with tools. The
624
. See previously where junior Engineers came to meals with only a handwash and
a “uniform blouse”.
conscientious went to night school and studied for their certificates. During
the war, groundwork was lacking and they “got some real oddballs”. Also
many came to sea at an earlier age, not having served the five-year
apprenticeship previously demanded of a watch-keeping Engineer, but only
having done four (aged twenty). Examinations for upgrading were made
easier, too. Before the war, if you failed one subject, you had to resit the
whole series of exams, but during the war, parts A and B were taken separately
and all passing marks were secure; certificated men were needed. After the
war there were lads who took training in theory at technical colleges and
became Engineering Cadets when they had never been on a ship. Older men
were dubious, but the youngsters proved good -- “knew their stuff”.(HMC 92-42,
TTC p. 6)
Relations were generally good. There was lots of kidding and joking,
but only occasionally was there real conflict. There was one incident where
the Chief Engineer had just finished having the bilges painted and the Chief
Mate asked for a manoeuvre where the ship turned “hard over” at full speed,
ruining the fresh paint. This strained relations for a while, but the two
remained friends. The skipper of the vessel said: “My whole seagoing career
as Captain, nine-tenths of my energy has been trying to keep the Mate and the
Chief from killing each other. I thought that was the trouble. On this ship
they‟re best friends; now I‟ve really got trouble.” The informant, after getting
a command, once complained to a Danish skipper that it was no fun at sea
anymore. “Remember the practical jokes we used to pull?” The reply was
that the reason it is no longer funny is that all the jokes were played on the
Captain or the Chief Engineer. “That‟s us now. We‟re the victims, not the
conspirators.”(HMC 90-53, TTC p. 4)
One American sailed mostly on tankers. His first ship was very nice,
but he was the Officers‟ Pantryman, basically a Cabin Boy, and did not care
for the job. He would have been better off had he joined the Engine crew.
Grumbling about the job, he was told that when they arrived at the next major
city he should take his papers ashore and ask the Shipping Commissioner to
endorse them for another Department -- the Commissioner would do it if he
“talked nice”.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 3) He did this successfully in Houston, but
later “got fired for coming home without leave”. He was sailing out of the
union hall625 in Philadelphia in an ancient vessel, “so slow she didn‟t even
leave a wake”, and while discharging cargo in New Jersey, the informant, who
lived in a nearby town, went home overnight and came back the next morning
to find he had been fired. It worked out for the best, because that was when he
got a Deck job. He was ready to sign on as a Messman, when a pierhead
jump626 became available for an Ordinary Seaman and he took it and eventually
shipped [on] all three coasts.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 2)
A number of interdepartmental disputes arose from seamen‟s racial,
national, or ethnic backgrounds, but this will be covered in Section D. Perhaps
a good way to end this Section and lead on to the relationships between
officers and ratings [regular crew] would be to wind everything up with a
comment on regionalism. James Timothy Murphy first sailed out of Tacoma,
Washington, then transferred to the Atlantic Coast. A Norwegian Captain
with whom he sailed once said no good Engineers came from the Pacific
Coast. Murphy grinned and said that he was one, whereupon the Captain
shook his head and replied, “Murph, you‟ve been out here [the East] too long.
You‟re different.”(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 2)
625
. Note that in the previous chapter this unlikely turn of phrase has been defined as
being assigned to vessels through a hiring system run by the trade unions in their hiring halls.
626
. A “pierhead jump” or “pierhead leap” is a nautical phrase meaning the short
notice acceptance of employment aboard a ship due for imminent departure, and derives from
the occasional necessity in earlier times of actually leaping from the dock to the departing ship
to secure a berth aboard.
C.
RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN OFFICERS AND RATINGS
Officers and ratings usually maintained a civil, even pleasant, working
relationship, despite the fact that their positions were essentially those of
management and labour respectively. Some officers, of course, were martinets
or ineffectual milquetoasts, while some ratings were “sea lawyers” or
“performers” whose main aim in life was to foment trouble. There was one
major difference, however, from the hierarchy of the factory floor, when it
moved to sea. The officers, or management figures, might be possessed of the
only necessary knowledge available to keep themselves and their subordinates
alive under certain conditions. No collier, steelworker, or textile mill worker
was liable to put at risk the lives of three entire shifts of workers merely by
contravening the bosses‟ orders, but a seafarer might be. It has well been said
that there is no “back door”627 at sea.
A few years before the war, a maritime author wrote:
The seaman as a deckhand must face wintry seas; as an
engine room worker he must labor in the depths of the
scorching stokehold when his ship plows through tropical seas;
as a steward, in the grey dawn he must scrub decks, and at
breakfast, noon and dinner wait on tables. All three sleep in the
slum bowels of the ship and eat their food from agate dishes in
rivet-studded mess halls.
Gold stripes change each of them to swivel-chaired
potentates with emissaries waiting to obey every command.628
But the rapid upgrading potential prevalent in the war years, coupled with
expanding trade unionism, produced a more proletarian attitude in the younger
officers, especially those who had “come up through the hawsepipe”.
About a third of the interviewees said the officer/rating relationship
was acceptably congenial. Typical was the response of a Canadian, who said
627
. Or ready means of escape. This statement occurs with great frequency, both in
printed works with maritime contexts and in the testimonies of men from both sides of the
Atlantic.
628
. Healey, 5.
there was never much of a problem with professional mariners who knew their
jobs, only with “captains‟ favourites”.629(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 5) Approximately
one-sixth of the respondents replied that the situation varied from ship to ship
and with the individuals involved.630 Some emphasised the growing isolation
of the individual as he neared the zenith of the hierarchy or discussed problems
of fraternisation between licensed and unlicensed personnel, while a few spoke
of the severe discipline enforced by some officers and the tendency of others to
misappropriation and pilferage of goods or funds, as mentioned in the previous
Section. One maintained that all Chief Stewards and Deck officers on the
Manx ferries had vested interests in hotels on the Isle of Man and appropriated
the crew‟s meat ration coupons to supply them. Also, when they and the
Engineers and Electricians went ashore to their homes on Man, all the lights
aboard went out and the crew remaining aboard -- about eight men in a small
forecastle -- had to rely on petrol-burning “Tilley” lamps, which hung in the
middle of their quarters, generating fumes and “a terrible stench” in the
confined space.(HMC 92-46, TTC p. 3) In some shipping companies which ran
passenger liners, a Steward who did not pay a “kickback” to the Cooks got
nothing but the passengers‟ leftovers to eat for the entire voyage.(HMC 92-45,
TTC p. 1)
A British rating cited training schools as “another racket”.
“They‟d take you to school and you had to buy a uniform, see.
Well, as soon as you come aboard, you‟d throw it away or start
shovelling coal in it. Nobody used to go around in a uniform
except the officers, to impress the ladies. All the killer-dillers,
the womanisers all dressed up. ... First thing these young
Engineers used to do, they were tang[?] lads from Cammell
Laird‟s, y‟know, Apprentice Engineers. They‟d get a Junior
Engineer‟s job aboard the ship, first thing they‟d do -- uniform - gold braid -- and there‟s nothing in the world to make a man
629
. The seafaring equivalent of “teachers‟ pets.”
. “Most skippers were pretty good, but there was one bad one, after the war, who
was almost a psycho. Another was very nice, but insisted on eating alone. ”(HMC 90-75, TTC
p. 7) A Canadian said you might have “the odd individual stinker”, but relations between
officers and ratings were mostly good. Most Captains of Park boats were English, mostly
good with “the odd stinker”. After a while they “changed to our ways”. [MH -- meaning less
class consciousness?](HMC 91-11, TTC p. 2)
630
big-headed than a little bit of gold braid on a uniform. I've seen
‟em, me own schoolmates; it does.”(HMC 92-44, TTC p. 6)
Another said these relations were “Not much cop.”631 Officers thought
themselves “God Almighty” in those days. Sometimes ratings could get along
with the Fourth Mate which a few ships carried, and occasionally the Third
was approachable, but above that forget it. “They didn‟t wanna know. „Who
are you?‟ They looked down on you.”(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 4)
One retired Master recalled hearing, in his youth, that a certain Captain
chased Mates up the mast and would not let them down. The informant
refused to sail with him, even at the cost of his job, but the Captain is the law
aboard his ship; it is a matter of discipline. One ship‟s Captain shot and killed
a handcuffed man, but the charges were dismissed. There is a question in the
examination for a lifeboat ticket: “If you are in charge and a person is causing
trouble, hit him with the sweep oar and, if necessary, kill him to protect the
others.” This, he said, is the exact wording.(HMC 90-55, TTC p. 3)
Some Masters were exceptionally good, but on one ship, the Captain
was nicknamed “Butcher” with good reason. He abused his Chinese crew
physically and mentally, and had acquired his unpleasant nickname before the
informant joined his ship, but the other officers were quite good. Many
Captains kept to themselves. Some were strict, and a few were “autocratic”,
but the majority were “good, decent men”. A Master had to remain aloof,
even to his own officers. A “Master under God” was only answerable to God.
Now they are answerable to accountants ashore and to other such people as
well. This informant declared he would hate to go to sea today, because the
accountants run everything from the office. “In those days”, once you cast off,
you were “Master under God”; there was only the ship and the elements. The
men had to obey the Master. Many deck ratings during the war, including the
631
. “Not much cop” is a British slang expression meaning “not very good”.
informant, intended to sit for officers‟ tickets but never found time to get
ashore for the examinations.(HMC 92-35, TTC pp. 2 and 5)
The Merchant Navy and the Royal Navy were very different situations.
The Merchant Navy were still civilians, not under military discipline. Officers
were respected in the Merchant Navy, but it was a far more friendly liaison. In
the Royal Navy during World War II, there was mainly mutual respect
between officers and men, but they were totally separated on social occasions,
far more so than in the United States Navy, or at least the informant received
that impression. On a Royal Navy ship, the Captain‟s word was absolute law
and his power life and death over the crew. “Perhaps not quite as bad as Capt.
Bligh, but that idea still remained, anyway, whereas in the Merchant Navy,
obviously you had to obey the Captain of the ship, but it was not quite so -shall we say -- vitally important to be absolutely under his thumb as it would
be in the Navy.”(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 2) Another respondent noted that on
MTBs632 and other Royal Navy vessels, if an order was given, three men would
rush to obey it. In the Merchant Navy, it was always the nearest man who did
it, not half a dozen, just one. That was the difference fifty years ago, although
it may have changed by now.(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 5)
One interviewee said relationships between officers and crew members
were “Not too good, really, I don‟t think,” but a bit “phony” and “awkward”.
“Well, they‟re [the officers] the same as us, really, in the Merchant Navy,
aren‟t they?” he said. “They‟re only ordinary chaps, worked their way up. But
in the Navy they‟re a bit more class, isn‟ there, the Royal Navy? But with the
Merchant Navy I don‟t think so, no. They made out what they weren‟t, really
y‟know.”(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 2) A very good example of the awe in which Royal
Navy ratings held the officers was a comment by an ex-escort sailor, who,
632
. Motor Torpedo Boats, the equivalent to the U.S. Navy “PT” Boat or the German
Kriegsmarin‟s “E-Boat”.
speaking of a Court of Inquiry into a shipmate‟s accidental death, said the
officers were very nice. “I wouldn‟t say they could have been ratings, ‟cause I
wouldn‟t try to degrade an officer like that,633 but it was so human, it wasn‟t
formal at all. ...I s‟pose there was a certain amount of sympathy, but at the
same time there was still naval discipline there. But it wasn‟t a frightening
experience. I thought it would‟ve been, but it wasn‟t.”(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 2)
The fact that he felt it would have been degrading to the officers to have
considered them equal to ratings in sympathy tells the whole story.
An American dodged the job of Officers‟ Messman, because officers
made him uncomfortable. You had to wear a white coat and make the coffee
“just so”. His favourite job was the hardest in the Stewards‟ Department,
Galley Utility: washing pots and pans, peeling potatoes, cutting up vegetables,
bringing stores from below. One did not have to deal with officers -- just
Cooks. Once he was Bedroom Utility and hated it, as he had to clean the
officers‟ rooms. It only happened once, though; he dodged the job afterwards.
He could not figure out when the officers were and were not in their rooms,
which was confusing and embarrassing and “put him in a tight”.(HMC 90-46,
TTC p. 1)
But another Catering rating looked after first the Purser and then the
ship‟s Surgeon, getting on well and enjoying the job, which he felt gave him a
lot of leeway and no pressure. On troopers one never saw the officers unless
one had something specifically to do with them.(HMC 92-10, TTC p. 3) A man
who had served in all three Departments regularly did the officers‟ dhobying634
and in return they bought items for him when they went ashore.(HMC 92-49,
TTC p. 3)
Three Radio/Wireless Officers spoke up for their position and said they
had always eaten in the saloon and were considered Deck officers, and one
633
. Emphasis mine.
. The reader is reminded that this means the hand-laundering of clothing.
634
became almost indignant in defence of the right (not privilege) of this group to
be so recognised. They had, he said, similar status to Engineers and were
entitled all such prerogatives as eating in the saloon or officers‟ mess and
having a Boy to clean their rooms. Another, however, asked whether he felt
like an officer or a poor relation, replied that you were entirely on your own
and there was some resentment. The only one who could order you was the
Master -- not even the Chief Mate or the Chief Engineer. Also, when work
and maintenance was done, you were at leisure. Nobody else was allowed this
privilege -- they all had to work.(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 6; HMC 92-15, TTC p. 1; HMC
92-22, TTC p. 3)635
Several former ratings spoke with warmth and esteem of officers who
had given special attention to their tutelage, either helping them learn the ropes
when they first shipped out, or giving them special attention during their
upgrading efforts, simply from a desire to help them better themselves.(HMC
90-5, TTC pp. 1-2, HMC 90-12, TTC p. 2)
It was necessary for a prospective Junior
Engineer to get letters of endorsement or recommendation from the Chief
Engineers with whom he shipped before he could enter Officer Candidate
School.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 4) One man still carries his, fifty years after the fact,
although he never ultimately benefited from their use.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 1)
One respondent who spent most of the war confined to a POW camp
had his Mate‟s ticket by the time the war ended because the officers helped the
men. Two British Captains in the camp approached the German officers to ask
if their juniors could do navigation school and obtain their “tickets” in the
camp, sending the paperwork out by post. Their captors agreed and
examination papers were overseen by the German high command and
envigilated by British officers in the camp dining hall. Only certain portions
635
. Although British Radio Officers once had a separate union, they are now
covered by NUMAST, the British union for all Deck officers.(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 3)
of the examinations were allowed in the camps, though, and they had to finish
the others on their return home. Some lower ratings, who would never
otherwise have had a chance, got tickets that way while in camp, studying with
and being tutored by the junior officers, while the senior officers taught them.
Once, in a railway station after the war, the informant met a rating he had
tutored and thought the man looked smart in his officer‟s uniform. He did not
recognise the man at first but, when he did, thought the two or three years of
study in prison camp had really “paid off” for him. It gave both teachers and
taught a great sense of accomplishment.(HMC 92-36, TTC p. 3) Outside the
boredom of prison camp, some already well-educated young men spent much
of their time studying and acquired their tickets. Others were too fond of
“bending the elbow” to study, so never improved their lot. “Bastards that
come up through the hawsepipe are the worst, once they get up”, however, as
they are harder on their former mates.(HMC 92-32, TTC pp. 7-8)
Prisoner-of-war camps were run on a very egalitarian basis, which
could be disconcerting to the officers, but on liberation, it was assumed that
they would fall immediately into their old roles, even without the ship, and
most did.(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 1) As D.B.S.636 in North Africa, after a sinking,
one crew was billeted with U.S. troops “under canvas” in the desert for two
weeks. The seamen were well-treated, but no distinction of rank was allowed,
even within the ships‟ crews, which bothered some, primarily the officers.
They queued with a plate for meals, but the food was good. While there,
survivors were given U.S. Army uniforms. Once the informant and a shipmate
failed to salute a ranking military officer, who at first was upset, but relented
when they explained they were merchant marine survivors.(HMC 91-8, TTC p. 3)
Most labour and trade union supporters amongst the ratings said it was
a “them” and “us” situation in which officers and crew did not mix, but it is
636
. Distressed British Seamen.
different now that crews are smaller. Then there were over thirty in a normal
deck crew, but now there are seldom that many altogether in the biggest
ship.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 5)
„They‟ [officers] got white sheets; we might dirty ours, so
we got blue ones. We got tin plates; they got pottery. All this
jazz, y‟know, and there no need for it. And when they dished
the stores out, they‟d have „Robinson‟s‟ jam; we‟d have some
junk from a factory in St. Helen‟s, made out of turnips, in a
great big five-pound tin. Load of nonsense. Or they‟d have
„Daddy‟ sauce and we‟d have a great big bottle like that,
y‟know. ... I was in one ... boat -- this is no kiddin‟. The
skipper and the cook and all that, they had four menus in that
ship for fifty men. One for the skipper, the Mate, and the Chief
Engineer; another for the Second Engineer, the Second Mate,
and that; and there was four different grades of food. The poor
riffraff, the crew, the decky....(HMC 92-44, TTC p. 5)
They went on strike, demanding “pound-and-pint”637 whereby a list of
stores was doled out by the Chief Steward, prepared by the men themselves,
and cooked by the Cook. Food was “a racket” in big passenger boats; cargo
boats were different -- there was no “fiddling”.638 The informant left the vessel
mentioned above and came home by train with seven hundredweight of excess
baggage leftover from his “pound-and-pint” rations. This was immediately
after the war, but still during rationing. He had a huge bag of sugar and a fiftysix-pound box of butter although he had only been on the ship a month. The
Cook owned shares in the shipping company and he and the skipper had
worked this “fiddle” between them.(HMC 92-44, TTC p. 5) Often there was
“crew tea” for the ratings and “cabin tea” of a higher quality for the officers.
The latter consisted of leaves and the former, nicknamed “timber ponds”, of
stalks.(HMC 92-66, TTC p. 3) It seemed strange to a troopship‟s Baker, that even
when at war, ship‟s officers were still fed from the passengers‟ menu. They
had had a “Captain‟s Table”, “Chief Officer‟s Table”, etc., with the Doctor at
the end of the list, each with selected guests. When the war came, they
continued the same sort of thing, with the officers eating from the passengers‟
637
. See Chapter Three under “Conditions Aboard”.
. “Fiddle” is a term common in England, indicating shady dealings.
638
menu. Similar class distinctions prevailed even amongst the civilians they
carried in wartime.(HMC 92-8, TTC pp. 5-6)
Other strong trade unionists were in agreement with those who
maintained there were both good and bad officers. “Johnny” Johnston said
some were wonderful and some were awful, inhuman. Some logged639 two
days‟ pay for one and it was always okayed. The one consolation was that
most of the money from fines went to the Marine Hospitals.(HMC 90-65, TTC p.
6)
It seems to have been an accepted fact that British officers (and ratings)
were much more conscious of class distinctions than were North Americans,
whether from the U.S., Canada, or Newfoundland. This sometimes caused
significant friction, especially when a white British officer had been used to
dealing with a crew of non-whites whom he treated in imperious fashion. “We
were all one bunch. We were all in the one lifeboat”, said a Newfoundlander,
but if they had men from the U.K., it would be “a little different”, as it was
harder to get along with British officers.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 3) Another
proclaimed that class distinction is terrible. “Don‟t clap your hands at a
Newfoundlander and expect him to jump!” said he.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 4) And a
Canadian launched into a veritable diatribe about relations aboard, beginning
with interdepartmental attitudes and expanding to include the officer/rating
relationship, the essence of which was: “The age-old conflict between grease
and air was propagated by simple old fools who couldn‟t live in the modern
world. These were generally British, who came to Canada because they were
unsuccessful in the United Kingdom, and maintained the class system.”(HMC
90-69, TTC p. 3)
An American reported that on his first trip there was trouble
639
. To “log” a person aboard a merchant ship is to enter his name in the log book
for a breach of discipline or for a shoreside offence. A fine is customarily imposed, to be
deducted from the lump sum wages the individual will receive when the ship pays off on
completion of the voyage. “The Mate would log men for drinking or shirking. There wasn‟t
much logging after the war, but before....”(HMC 90-66, TTC p. 1)
with an English First Mate, because the men fraternised with the officers;
licensed and unlicensed personnel sat together on the hatch and “shot the
bull”. It was a matter of teamwork.(HMC 90-41, TTC p. 1) Relations depended
on individuals. An informant who was a devotee of football[soccer], played
with a mixed group of officers and crew. They got on well, but he was an
Engineer and they [Engineers] were working-class, and so got along better
than did Deck officers, having more in common with the crew. Of course they
were supposed to keep their place, and he was scolded several times for
fraternising with the ratings on his watch. Football640 was the main area of
commonality.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 6)
The last ship out of Singapore, was saved from destruction during the
enemy attack because they were screened by the smoke from a fire on the oil
jetty; almost everything else in the harbour was hit. After jury-rigging to
repair damage, she waited for the last women and children still coming to be
evacuated. The evacuees, dressed in their best, stood waiting in line in the
heat. They were parched. Catering staff could not pass them cups, so they
emptied a large tin of fruit, filled the empty can with water, and passed it to the
women on the dock. The sight of the stylishly-dressed women “like royalty in
Ascot hats” drinking from a fruit can was impressive; it was “a great leveller”.
All got aboard, and during the voyage the Army wives were segregated by rank
-- officers‟ wives here, non-commissioned officers‟ wives there, privates‟
wives in another place. This annoyed the informant, as they all were literally
as well as figuratively in the same boat, after all. All got the same food and
the many pregnant women were well tended, which was fine, but the informant
still could not accept the class-line segregation in other respects.(HMC 92-8, TTC
pp. 5-6)
640
. Soccer.
Fraternisation between licensed and unlicensed personnel was similarly
anathema to most British shipping firms, especially the more prestigious. On
Blue Funnel vessels, officers and crews were quite separate. James Crewe, a
young Radio Officer, was on a ship in the Indian Ocean on a Sunday, during
the Captain‟s inspection, on the forward well-deck, where two ratings were
playing darts. Crewe watched their game and was later reprimanded by the
Captain for fraternising with the crew -- just for watching. Blue Funnel was
exceptional in that way -- they were sticklers for regulations. Nobody liked it,
but it was accepted at the time.(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 2) Dick Playfer had a more
difficult dilemma, as he radically altered his status. As a Cadet, he did not
think much about class distinctions. He knew there was a difference and the
two groups kept their distance. He conformed without question, until his first
trip ashore in Baltimore, when he shared a taxi and the evening that followed
with some regular seamen. Observed by the Chief Officer, he was
reprimanded for consorting with the men and warned that he must not do so
again, as it was bad for discipline. This was a surprise. He had never
supposed the distance was deliberately maintained. There was no actual
penalty imposed, however, despite the fact that he refused to conform. Later,
when he was at the other end of the social scale as a seaman, the distinction
between officers and ratings was more obvious and he felt it was wrong.
Some of his crewmates were bitter about it and officers were called hard
names. There was little discrimination in their minds -- all officers were
considered bad. Playfer was no happier with that blanket dismissal by class
than he had been with the other. There was lots of class distinction of that sort
aboard British ships. In contact with North American sailors he discovered it
is not true of North American ships, or at least not to the same extent. With so
much discrimination, it was interesting to see both sides of it.(HMC 92-24, TTC
p. 2)
His attitude is the more intriguing when contrasted with the previous
remark that the Captain and Chief Engineer, as management, have to take care
of the idiots, while the troublemakers are the failures who prefer to blame their
own failure on others.(HMC 90-8, TTC p. 2)
Some class divisions were between the ranks of the licensed personnel
themselves, and made life more difficult for junior officers, Cadets, and
especially for Apprentices, who were deemed “lower than the ship‟s cat”.(HMC
92-5, TTC p. 6)
One informant, on the last vessel of his apprenticeship, was
either a lone Apprentice or one of two (usually there were four) and had gone
to the Engine Room to fetch a bucket of black oil or paint. The ship lurched as
he mounted the ladder, causing him to catch the lip of the bucket and spill its
contents all over a heat exchanger. The Chief Engineer saw it and “went
spare”. The informant spent the entire remainder of the watch below, cleaning
off the heat exchangers. It was hot weather and the heat exchangers were
boxed in and it was very hot. He feels he “must‟ve lost about ten pounds in
that four hours!” The stuff was drying on quickly, so he had to work fast.
“That was the worst thing that ever happened to me. ... Stuck with me for a
long time. ... Talk about a wet rag.”(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 6)
Another ex-
Apprentice felt there was an interesting note about the war bonus. When it
was first instituted, the only ones aboard ship not entitled to claim it were the
Captain and the Apprentice, because they were “company personnel”. After
about nine months, however, all were receiving it. “It was a princely sum -five pounds a month -- six months‟ wages for an Apprentice!” The informant
saved all his war bonuses and had accrued sixty pounds by the end of his
apprenticeship. “A fortune!”(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 2)
Another said when he was
an Apprentice there was “No problem at all, as far as I knew.” In Australia, he
had to go to the local pub and bring the sailors back to the ship before sailing.
He expected trouble, but there was none; they came with no problem. All
were old hands who had been with the ship a long time and were very reliable,
very good. He believes he was like a son to them.(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 3)
But
merely obtaining a licence did not make a man immune to strife with his social
superiors:
A Second Mate sailed with a Chief Officer he did not like -they just did not get along. The ship got into trouble going up
the [English] East Coast, through “E-boat Alley”, not from
hostilities, but by cargo breaking loose, and they all had to get
out and help. The informant had a hammer and the Mate was
holding a wedge. He hit the other man‟s thumb entirely by
accident, but took it off, so they dropped the casualty at Methyl
and the informant got an instant promotion. He told the Old
Man, “You do appreciate, Sir, that the Third Mate has no ticket,
no idea, no hope, no ambition.” The skipper replied, “We‟ll get
on all right, won‟t we?” And they did. For eighteen months,
they sailed round like that. Two years later, in a bar, he met the
man he had injured, and with whom he had had the personality
clash, and was told, “You did me a jolly good turn. ... The
next ship I went on they made me Master.”(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 7)
Because officer/crew fraternisation was discouraged, some Junior
Engineers socialised with the Gunnery Officer,(HMC 90-25, TTC p. 1) but one
Engine Room rating saw a distinct difference between licensed/unlicensed
personnel‟s relationships there and in the Deck Department, because Engineers
had to work more closely with their men than did Deck Officers. There were
close relations because they were so interdependent, but the Mates and the
Captain were sort of aloof.(HMC 90-39, TTC p. 2)641
A U.S. Navy rating, at one point in our interview, asked “So do I sound
like a typical Chief Petty Officer, criticising the officers?” and said, “They
called us high school dropouts in the Navy half our life, and we called them
idiots ninety days out of a college, but we got along better than what it might
sound.”(HMC 90-9, TTC p. 1) But an American merchant rating told of a Third
Mate who instructed the Armed Guard to open fire on a British destroyer
which he could not readily identify and recollected that “it was nice to hear an
„E.M.‟ [enlisted man] tell off an officer” when the Gunner refused to obey the
order.(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 1)
. Cf. also Chapter Seven, Section A and HMC 92-42, TTC p. 6, where the
game of soccer football is specified as a proletarian sport played by the Engineering
Department, illustrating a lack of class distinction within the Department itself.
641
The British noted the problems of rapid training as well:
“Towards the end of the war, both the Americans and us
were hard-pressed to man the ships. By that time they were
building ships so fast they couldn‟t train men quick enough to
man them. I mean there were American lads coming straight
out of college [Academy] virtually getting a Second Mate or a
Mate‟s job of a Liberty ship, y‟know, the first ship they‟d ever
set foot on.” When told another respondent had said the British
concept of American navigation was to take a fortnight‟s course
at Maritime College, then get behind the wheel and tell the
helmsman to follow that British ship,642 he responded, “Well, it
... wasn‟t quite that bad I don‟t suppose, but it was getting
pretty serious, we were so short of trained men. Churning the
ships out, but they can‟t train men that quickly.”(HMC 92-53, TTC
p. 2)
Some crewmembers found most of the officers to be “real gentlemen”
despite the differentiation of rank, and stressed that they were probably
lonelier than the crew, as they were fewer in number and could not “buddy
up”. Even the Purser did not mingle. On passenger ships, officers were
completely isolated from the crew, while on coastal boats they were more
friendly and all worked together, although the officers held the authority.(HMC
92-10, TTC p. 3)
In many ships with limited space, the upper echelon of unlicensed
workers643 ate and associated with the officers. This made the informant, a
Chief Electrician, feel a bit peculiar -- being a union man, attending union
meetings, but eating in the officers‟ mess -- and he thinks others may have
resented it. He was uncomfortable, as he was only nineteen at the time, and
the Second Electrician, who ate with the crew, was about fifty-five and
resented being bossed about by a kid who got social preferment.
Awkwardnesses, however, were individual rather than universal.(HMC 90-72,
TTC pp. 5-6)
642
. Capt. Graeme Cubbin, personal conversation on the day of the interview.
. These were basically “Petty Officers” in the hierarchy and often “day men” [see
earlier in Chapter Four, Section C, regarding Watches]. This informant was in the Engine
Department and no compatible testimony was forthcoming from either Deck or
Stewards‟/Catering Departments, although it is reasonable to assume that the officer-type ranks
of the latter, Purser and Chief Steward, might well have done likewise, either on that ship or in
a similar situation..
643
Several interviewees declared the Captain the loneliest man on the ship
and noted that loneliness affects people in different ways. A Canadian Master
Mariner said relations were excellent as long as neither side overstepped the
invisible line of command. His biggest problems were on postwar scientific
ships. The scientists, “all Socialists, trained by the CBC [Canadian
Broadcasting Corporation],” did not recognise the same limits, but it was they
and the seamen who suffered, not the officers. The men would have
responded better had the academics behaved like officers, as “they are all
aware the barrier is there”. The Captain must remain separate or lose control
of the vessel.(HMC 90-69, TTC p. 3) He has to be aloof because his responsibility
is so great, and he seldom even got to sleep in his own bed in a convoy
situation, usually finding it necessary to use a cot on the bridge; nor could he
afford to become “chummy” with the crew. In a large convoy with specified
“sealed orders” and course changes, the Captain has heavy stress and many
responsibilities.(HMC 90-39, TTC p. 2) A Master can be one of three things: 1)
He can run the ship by telephone from his room and appear on the bridge only
when necessary; 2) He can be a partial participant, appearing on Sundays at
inspection; 3) He can be a “real” Master, all-about, all the time, there
whenever he is needed. It is an open door policy, how to be a ship‟s Master.
If there is a problem, ask yourself if you are doing your own job properly.
Correct problems. Check the messrooms first. “Money, mail, and meals equal
one hundred percent morale.”(HMC 90-69, TTC pp. 3-4)
A retired Chief Engineer agreed that everything depended upon the
quality of the officer as an individual, and stressed the fact that close quarters
aboard sometimes aggravated existing differences. He was considered a good
labour relations man, as he never had problems with his crews. On another
vessel, though, they picked the wrong man as Chief Engineer, and when he
was caught using a dime644 to open a switchbox, the crew turned him in to the
union and he was fined five hundred dollars because it was written in the
contract that “the Chief Engineer shall not work with tools”. It would not have
happened to the informant, because of his good crew relations. The other man
did have his good points; he was fair -- but strict.(HMC 90-48, TTC pp. 1 and 4)
Other Chief Engineers were really odd characters. One, a Scot, was in a
somewhat “dicey” convoy situation and when he rang his subordinate in the
Engine Room, the young Irishman answered, “Okay, Chief!” Turning to the
informant, who was standing in his office, he grated, “What does he think I
am? A #@*&%£$! Red Indian?!”645
As in this instance, lack of harmony between officers and
crewmembers often hinged on problems in communication. Sometimes it was
an amusing incident, but at other times, ship‟s discipline might be called into
question and the situation would be more complicated. Canadian Elbert
Coldwell would give no names when he told following two stories:
Once, when he was Quartermaster at the wheel, the ship
was off the coast of Ireland; it was hazy and before merchant
ships were equipped with radar, so the other AB on watch was
given the lookout‟s job up on the monkey island.646 The
lookout used to report anything he saw down through the
speaking tube. One of the Queens came out of the haze and
passed down the ship‟s starboard side, so the lookout blew
down through the speaking tube just as the Captain and Second
Mate walked in from the chartroom, and reported “A ship on
the starboard beam, the biggest bastard I've ever seen.” This
was not considered the proper way to report. The Old Man
nearly died laughing and told the Second Mate to call the
lookout down and ask if he knew the proper way to report a
sighting. The Second Mate had to deliver the reprimand with a
straight face, which was difficult.(HMC 91-11, TTC pp. 3-4)
On another ship the only time the crew got ashore in port
was evenings or weekends. They came in for a refit and the
men naturally wanted more time off. There were twelve ABs
644
. A small thin coin worth ten cents, circulated in both Canada and the United
States. The approximate British equivalent in both size and value would be the new five-pence
piece.
645
. As has been previously noted, the title of “Chief” is most often attached to the
Chief Engineer, so the man‟s irascibility on this point was somewhat eccentric.
646
. See previous Chapters for a definition of “monkey island”.
and each went to the Bosun complaining of toothache and
asking for time off to get the tooth pulled. They went once
round and were starting a second time when the refit was
completed and they sailed. The messroom was right forward
and every night after they left Halifax [Nova Scotia] all the way
to Italy they had stew for supper[tea]. Finally the twelve
seamen took the “dixey”647 full of stew to the Mate‟s room and
complained. The Mate replied that he could not help them,
because at the rate they had had their teeth out in Halifax he
could not see what else they could eat. He had the last
laugh.(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 4)
However, Geoffrey Arnold, as a British junior officer, had a less
diverting discipline problem:
The log648 was at the stern of ship. The officer on the bridge
had to blow a whistle for the standby man to bring the log
reading to the bridge. The first and the second time Arnold
blew the whistle the man responded immediately. The third
time he did not, so Arnold blew again. “A redheaded fellow”
then appeared, saying “Why do you keep blowing the whistle?”
Arnold responded, “That‟s quite enough. When I blow the
whistle I want you up here in the required time.” “But they
were just trying it on, y‟see? To see what they could get away
with with the junior fellow. After they had been put in their
places, they were all right.”(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 5)
Two strong trade unionists rightly, but a little surprisingly, upheld the
class system of discipline aboard. The American said, “You have to have
discipline on a ship or somebody will take advantage.” The captain always
had to be fair and square.(HMC 90-66, TTC p. 2) This attitude was echoed by the
Liverpudlian who said:
“Well, before the war it wasn‟t bad.” Before the war men
accepted a certain discipline. As an example, after the war the
informant still occasionally used the word, “Sir” to the Chief
Officer and was told there was no need for it. The officer
thought he was being sarcastic, and he had to explain it was
automatic. “It wasn‟t just common practice; it was the general
thing. Now, when you left the wheel, or when you approached
any, even the Third Officer, you, when you give‟m the course ...
you just been steerin‟ you repeated after it, „Sir.‟ Or if you
wanted something you‟d say „Sir‟, or you‟re reportin‟ a light,
and you happened to be close and you‟d say, „Light on the
starboard bow, Sir.‟ ... It was so common -- young, old, didn‟
647
. A “dixey” is a nest of big pots that sit one on top of each other like a doubleboiler, but nested three or four deep, held together and the lid held on with a bail handle, and
used for carrying food from the galley to the messroom.
648
. The heaving log for ascertaining the vessel‟s speed or the depth of draught
possible, not the ship‟s logbook in which the daily record was kept.
matter. Men used it, tramp steamers, other ships. But that‟s
not so now. ... So discipline was generally quite good. I
wouldn‟ say ‟twas perfect, no.” Before the war men would
know which ships or companies had a bad name. Crew arrests
occurred, but were not common; there were more discipline
problems during and after the war.(HMC 92-54, TTC p. 4) Others
also found the relationship deteriorated at the end of the war, as
everyone was getting “fed up” and friction naturally arose.(HMC
92-50, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-51, TTC p. 5)
One generally unpopular merchant Master, on a voyage to Okinawa,
presented some U.S. Marines with steaks and liquor from the ship‟s stores,
which pleasantly surprised his crew and made them proud.(HMC 90-13, TTC p. 3)
Another ship took food to Bari, Italy and then went to Sicily to make up a
convoy. The Captain put on dungarees and got the whole crew to unload
leftover rice and dried peas into the bumboats. The informant feels it made for
harmony when the Captain mingled with the crew like that.649 This same
respondent,, who did not go to sea until after the start of the war, sailed first
under a old German skipper who had been a U-boat commander in the First
World War. Despite this background, the Captain was generally loved and the
informant “would have gone anywhere with him”.(HMC 90-42, TTC p. 2)650
Another man sailed with a skipper who had “come up through the hawsepipe”
and used to stand on the bridge and tell sea tales while the interviewee was “on
the wheel”.651 Amongst other things, he revealed how he had originally
obtained his Master‟s ticket during the Depression while sleeping in a boxcar
and reading his lessons by the light of a streetlamp.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 6) These
disclosures made the Old Man more human and approachable. A lowly Galley
Utility Man‟s friendship with the Third Mate on another vessel was the key to
his only visit to the bridge, where he was allowed a brief and closely
supervised “trick” at the wheel.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 1) The memory remained
with him nearly fifty years later.
649
. Cf earlier where the RN rating felt it “degraded” an officer to be considered as
sympathetic as a rating.
650
. See also Section D.
651
. A Quartermaster‟s “trick” at the wheel was three and a half hours.
Relationships between ranks, like any other relationships, depended
heavily on the individuals and circumstances involved. One rating, for
example, had “a barber‟s outfit” and regularly cut the crew‟s hair. Although
he considered the skipper “very nice”, he courteously but firmly refused to
give him a haircut in Durban, because the crew had been given extra tasks on
New Year‟s Day and the “barber” said he had to help his watch finish their
work. Basically though, they all used to co-operate. There are not so many
people aboard ship anyhow -- even then there were only about forty in a
normal cargo vessel‟s crew. A normal Deck crew consisted of six ABs, three
Ordinary Seamen, a Bosun and a Carpenter.(HMC 90-14, TTC pp. 3-4)
Some unpleasantnesses persisted even ashore. A Chief Cook who
believed the Third Mate “had it in for him” refused the latter‟s offer of a beer
in a shoreside bar. This led to a fracas in which the five-foot-three-inch Cook
beat the six-foot Mate and returned to the ship while his opponent was still
pursuing him with a police guard. Aboard, he was told that the Baker had had
a similar altercation with the Third, who now had a black eye. When they paid
off, the Captain “logged” the Mate, who then had to return to Boston from
California by train, still sporting his “shiner”.(HMC 90-21, TTC p. 1) Another
unlicensed Catering rating, however, went drinking ashore with officers on a
regular basis and considered there was no difference between them.(HMC 90-55,
TTC p. 1)
Yet a third respondent said officers and crew got along fairly well,
but there were always some problems. Even before the unions, some officers
were polite and others were not. Some would go ashore with crewmen to bars
and entertainment venues, and others were self-important. An officer in a bar,
seeing some of his crew there, might order “Send ‟em down a drink”. Each
crew member would then send one back, so he always got more than he paid
for, in a way.(HMC 90-66, TTC p. 2) A Chief Engineer said there was never any
trouble with his crews. They would have a drink ashore, but never missed the
ship, or anything like that. Not that they were angels...no ship is run with
angels!(HMC 92-28, TTC pp. 4-5) Officers generally agreed that, if ratings
behaved, they got on pretty well, but there were disciplinary problems and
insubordination, especially in port, usually with drink at the root. At sea they
were quite happy and had few problems.(HMC 92-33, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-41, TTC
pp. 5-6)
Even those who had found relationships less than perfect knew the
value of applied psychology. During the war, British merchant crewmen were
allowed to buy two cans of beer per day aboard at sevenpence per can, much
cheaper than ashore. This was unheard of in peacetime, but it was found that,
when they reached a port, drink was then “no big thing”. When they went
ashore, instead of getting drunk, the crew bought rationed foods and other
luxuries for their families instead of drinking, so it worked out well.(HMC 9241, TTC pp. 5-6)
American ships, despite their reputation for being “dry”, were
no different. On one, going from Australia to Bahrein, the Captain allowed
each crew member to bring aboard a case of beer. These were fifty-four-count
cases of Imperial quarts of strong Australian lager, and some problems
resulted, so on the next trip, only officers were allowed to have beer. This
decision resulted in hard feelings and pilferage. As Americans were unused to
warm beer, they refrigerated it, and it would disappear if left unguarded. It
was a “Mr. Roberts”652 situation which brought discord to officer/crew
relations. The informant himself experienced little tension from either side of
the officer/crew division, but some did. Problems were greater on Deck than
in the Engine Room which, as has been mentioned, was more proletarian. The
informant would often purchase a case of beer ashore and then divide it with
other crew members aboard, including ratings.(HMC 90-25, TTC p. 1)
652
. Mr. Roberts was a book and later a film starring Henry Fonda and James
Cagney, and approaching the life of the American Merchant Marine junior officer in
wartime from a humorous angle. Much of the comedy results from subordinates
hoodwinking senior officers.
A family friend, Capt. Emerson Chodzko, often talked of one voyage in
the tropics, during which he “allowed himself one bottle of beer at the end of
each day.” In actuality, he had only one bottle of beer, which he would set on
the corner of his desk when he sat down to his evening paperwork, as an
incentive. Each day, however, he would decide to save the bottle until the end
of the following day‟s work, and so put it away. I do not believe he ever told
us if or when he finally drank it himself or gave it away.
A Scottish deckhand said relations were generally pretty good, as
officers seldom got involved in fights and such.(HMC 92-11, TTC p. 2) There
was, however, an incident during which some Firemen, who had no money
and were already drunk, bartered for rum and got even drunker. The bottles
were confiscated and in the morning, as they left port, the Mate called the
miscreants up to where he had all the bottles lined up on the wing of the
bridge. He then identified which bottle belonged to which man and made each
dump his own over the side.(HMC 92-12, TTC p. 2)
At the end of Chapter Four, mention was made of the stamps used in
English discharge books, where “Decline to Report” under conduct and ability
was called a “Burndown” or bad discharge and essentially meant the man was
blackballed from the Merchant Service for the remainder of his working life.
The three grades of stamp were “Very Good”, “Good”, and “Decline to
Report”.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 1) One respondent happily proclaimed that the
report in his discharge book was always “Very Good” and that relationships
between officers and men were always good on the vessels in which he served,
especially his own personal relationships with officers, some of whom called
him by his first name.(HMC 92-2, TTC p. 2) Another falsified his papers so he
could not be traced, as he had several bad discharges marked “Decline to
Report”.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 4) In American discharge books the Deck
Department had marks for “seamanship”, while the Stewards‟ Department had
marks for “ability”653 All Departments, however, had marks for “conduct”, and
if an officer did not like a man, he would give him a “bad” mark. This is no
longer done, but bad discharge records were as much of a problem to the
American merchant seafarer as they were to his British counterpart.(HMC 90-66,
TTC p. 1)
An American ex-Master, interviewed on the same subject, said there
were lots of “commies” in the seafaring trade unions just before the war. The
Copeland Books654 which listed a seaman‟s work rating as VG, G, F, or P,655
and which were superseded by discharge papers, were a factor as well.656 At
the beginning of the war seamen‟s papers had to be certified by the U.S. Coast
Guard, but were also checked out by the FBI(Federal Bureau of Investigation)
and other such security groups.(HMC 90-54, TTC p. 1)
An Englishman who ended his seafaring career as a Chief Steward and
Purser said officers and ratings got along okay; there were no problems. “I
ended up an officer,” he chuckled, “My problem was crew changes.” The only
time he ever “kicked up a stink” was when his team was split up; he even had
a “beef”657 with the big bosses over it. In a lengthy explanation of the change
in company policy which precipitated the change, he spoke with intense pride
of his Chinese crew.(HMC 92-3, TTC p. 3)658 Another Englishman said many
white British officers were accustomed to Third World crews. In today‟s
mercantile marine, most crews are Third World; they will work cheaper when
a Britisher demands a “living wage”. The Departments were
653
. No mention is made of what mark was given those in the Engine crew.
. At this time there were several different documentation systems in use in the
United States. Each was official and no choice was given the individual involved, but
different Departments or different geographical shipping areas might have different systems.
655
. Very Good, Good, Fair, or Poor.
656
. Documents like Copeland books were unpopular with seamen, who preferred
not to have notes on their behaviour follow them from one job to another. When such records
were abolished in favour of a standardised nationwide system of registration, however, there
was a short period of some uncertainty until the U.S. Coast Guard was firmly established as the
governing body overseeing all American seafarers‟ discharge records. The British simply did
away with the revealing stamps, but retained the identical discharge book they had always
used.
657
. The term “beef” is often used by union men to denote a grievance.
658
. For further examination of ethnic differences, see Section D of this chapter.
654
“departmentalised” and the sea is “a world of its own”. He also elaborately
detailed the “gloryhole crowd” of different Catering ratings.(HMC 92-7, TTC pp.
3-4)
John Dalgleish said relationships were good in his experience, because of
the quality of men employed by Blue Funnel Line. Later in the war, when
shipping companies could not be so particular in their hiring choices, there
were some problems. They had Chinese crews in the Engine Room, and then
started to hire whites, which caused some minor problems, but these were
more a matter of class and of “sea-lawyer left-wing types” than of ethnicity.
“Seafaring on the whole is conservative, with a small c. When the awkward
cuss shows up, it interrupts the flow. The rest of the group is not always ready
to deal with it.”(HMC 92-23, TTC p. 2) Regional, national, and ethnic
relationships are discussed in the next Section. Religious differences are also
mentioned briefly in this section, as they pertain more to the sort of cultural
intimacy and contrariety considered here than to the relationships discussed in
the other three sections.
D.
ETHNIC, RACIAL, NATIONAL AND REGIONAL PERCEPTIONS AND
RELATIONSHIPS
Shipboard relationships based on the cultural and ethnic background of
the individuals involved were, for the most part, more candid and far less
restricted than similar relationships ashore. Both practices and prejudices
varied from place to place, however, and this Section devotes itself to
describing the former and clarifying the latter.
At the time of the Second World War, a number of British shipping
companies regularly employed native seafarers from colonies in China, Africa,
and the Indian subcontinent as ratings and sometimes petty officers. “The
British Merchant Navy was actually less than 70[sic] per cent British.
Thousands of seamen from occupied Europe and from colonies in Africa and
Asia manned British ships.”659 It was almost unheard of, however, for a given
Department on a British-flag vessel to comprise more than one ethnic group
unless, perhaps, the petty officers were of a different ethnicity from the lower
ratings. Officers were almost exclusively of “white” European stock. North
America was integrating crews as well during this period, and at first this was
accomplished similarly to the British system. A ship might have white officers
and Deck Crew whilst shipping black Afro-Americans660 in the Engine
Department and Orientals or Filipinos as Cooks and Stewards. At the outset
of the war, it was virtually unheard of to “checkerboard” any Department by
hiring more than one ethnic group to fill its uncertificated positions, and blacks
were almost never found among the Deck Crew.661 One of the Liverpool
interviewees said this was true of British vessels as well; there were quite a
659
. TimeWatch script, 6.
. I have chosen not to use an upper-case letter for the word black in reference to
race, as I am not capitalising the words white, non-white, or coloured, and also because, due to
the necessities of my subject matter, I am capitalising such a large number of other words that I
feel this would lead to confusion. It is not done with any intention of deprecating any persons
of African or other non-white ancestry. Please bear with me.
661
. The Deck Department was the last to integrate on North American vessels. See
below for the personal testimony of one of the first black men to ship as a Deck rating.
660
few “coloured” in the Catering Department, but none shipped as “seamen” nor
“down below”.662(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 4) Almost no non-whites were found
amongst the licensed positions, although a small number of Native Americans
and Mexicans “slipped through the cracks” in the U.S. and Canada,663 and a
minuscule number of men of Polynesian background achieved similar status.
It is unfortunate that more members of ethnic minorities did not
respond to this study‟s calls for informants, as only two of the men actively
interviewed during the fieldwork were black. Both were originally of African
descent and were from the United States sample. One, William Finch,
considered race relations aboard the vessels on which he served to be
“Okay”.664 He admitted, however, that he spent more time with the “Seabee”665
troops carried as passengers than he did with his shipmates. Finch said he did
not believe his colour to be a factor in his being assigned to the
Stewards‟[Catering] Department on his first voyage. Instead he rationalised
the situation, saying it was probably because there were no ships in port at the
time which required Engine crew (he was trained for Engine Room work). He
did mention some racial segregationist policies ashore, mostly in Louisiana,
but apparently felt little or no racism had been manifested in his shipboard
experiences, although he divulged that two West Indian shipmates aboard a
vessel coming into New Orleans had asked if there really was prejudice and he
had replied that there definitely was.(HMC 90-26, TTC pp. 1-3)
662
. Here “coloured” refers to any non-whites, “seamen” refers exclusively to the
Deck crew, and “down below” to the Engine Department.
663
. Most of these were fairish in complexion and easily able to “pass for white”
although their surnames were occasionally indicative of their ethnic background.
664
. Finch was raised in areas of the United States where the colour bar was not
conspicuous for that period.
665
. The United States Navy‟s Construction Battalions; equivalent to the Army‟s
Corps of Engineers, these men designed and built everything from gun emplacements and
airfields to camps and even entire towns. Many of them were black. As noted in Chapter
Four, the nickname obviously derives from the initials C.B., but is in universal use and the
insignia is a striped honey-bee wearing a naval rating‟s white hat.
The other black interviewee, Ed Richards, told an entirely different
story.666 Brought up in the British West Indies, Richards had begun shipping
out on small coastal and fishing boats at an early age. His favourite work
aboard was that of a deckhand, and he determined to pursue employment in
this line when he came to the United States, at the time that country was first
entering the war. Sent to the USMS Training Center in Sheepshead Bay, New
York, he proved he needed little or no training, and could easily “box” a
compass with the best. He received seaman‟s papers as an AB, or Able
(Bodied) Seaman, unlimited, any waters, as well as a clearance pass from the
Coast Guard because he was a foreign national, and his lifeboat “ticket”,667
registered with the War Shipping Administration, and was sent on to the trade
unions. Unable to sign with the Seafarers‟ International Union because they
did not at the time accept black deckhands, he found the National Maritime
Union, with its more proletarian and leftist leanings, presented no difficulty.
At the time he was “green” to conditions in the States, although he had
heard about them. On entering the job pool, Richards was assigned to a vessel
almost immediately, as there were few men with his superior qualifications.
Arriving at the ship, however, he was told they wanted “no niggers on deck”
and he returned, disappointed, to the hiring hall. He was rejected in this way
by several ships, but accepted such treatment because it was “the norm” at the
time. Returning to the British consul for a job, he found they wanted to make
him a Fireman again, and he refused. He did not know what it was all about,
but he knew he had to eat. After a series of disappointments he was told,
“Come back and we‟ll send a man with you. They‟re anchored off Staten
Island, waiting for a convoy. They can‟t sail without an AB and you‟re it.” He
666
. Richards had had a laryngectomy some fifteen years before the interview and
had to “throat-talk” onto the tape. Nonetheless, he apparently felt his contribution to be
valuable, as he persevered for well over an hour, until the physical strain involved was quite
evident.
667
. The reader is reminded that this is a certificate of proficiency in small boat
handling and basic navigational skills, rather than an entitlement to a seat in a lifeboat in case
of emergency.
was then accompanied to the assigned vessel by a union representative (known
in the States as a “patrolman”), who told the ship‟s officers bluntly that this
was the only AB he could offer, that they could not sail without an AB on each
watch, and that they would have to take it or leave it, although they need not
keep Richards on for more than the one voyage.
On his first trick at the wheel, Richards “could feel people breathing
down his neck”, but he knew his job. He was unaware at that time that he was
the only “green ticket” (unlimited) AB aboard. The others were all “blue
tickets” from the Maritime School and off rivers. Later, during his offwatch
hours, he was even set by the Mate to train the new Ordinary Seamen to box
the compass, steer, and steady a ship. Over the duration of the initial voyage,
Richards proved his capabilities so conclusively that he was encouraged to
sign on for further trips aboard that vessel. Among the experiences he detailed
from that first voyage was getting to know the young man with whom he
shared his forecastle quarters. It is unclear whether the friendly relationship
which grew between them was due to the open-mindedness of the white youth,
who had previously had no close relationships with blacks, to Richards‟s own
personable nature, or to a combination of the two, but Richards could talk to
“Leo”. As their friendship developed, they went everywhere together, and
their shoreside jaunts further exposed segregation and racism. The very last
day of the trip, Leo was on No. 4 hatch with his shirt off. “Come on, take your
shirt off, let‟s get a tan.” “I‟m sorry, Leo, I was born with my tan.” The gun
crew on duty all started to laugh. “What did I say that was that funny?” You
can say anything with friends. Richards stressed the importance of friendship
and said in such cases backgrounds mean nothing.
The morning after the first attack off Newfoundland, Richards came on
deck and a Fireman, seeing him for the first time, started to laugh, “Hey, we‟ve
got a nigger on board. We could have some fun.” The word “nigger” never
bothered Richards, as it would have an American-born black person, but he
asked Leo why the Fireman would call him names. “Because he‟s stupid and
afraid. I‟ll put a stop to that.” Leo then told the Mate, who held a ship‟s
muster, telling the crew there was to be no name-calling “or there‟ll be Hell to
pay.” It still happened, but surreptitiously after that. Leo got classified as a
“nigger-lover” because he was the one who told the Mate. What really
stopped it was when, two days out from Gibraltar, they were hit by waves of
torpedo-planes and strafing. When Richards started passing three-inch shells,
nobody noticed his colour. There were no further problems in port or on the
way back. He made friends.
Richards stayed with that ship for over a year, then felt he had to quit,
despite the Mate‟s efforts to keep him aboard. He was offered every incentive
to stay, but had made up his mind to go, promising himself never again to
spend so much time on a single vessel. By then the whole ship had changed
and he was “going nuts”. He was the last to go. The first time a new crew
came on, there was always trouble. Once they had faced attacks together it
was okay, but until then.... “That was their tradition, so you couldn‟t actually
be mad at them.” He did find it amusing, however, when the first other
“coloured” came aboard. This was the new Chief Cook, who greeted Richards
as his “boss”, thinking since he was black he must be the Chief Steward. He
was amazed to find a black on Deck.(HMC 90-61, TTC pp. 1-2 and 4)
One respondent said there are now as many black as white seafarers -maybe more, and then told a story which indicated that attitudes toward racial
differences in the wartime Merchant Service, like those toward homosexuality,
were treated more with whimsy than with malice by the white majority:668
668
. This is substantiated by a number of other stories and testimonies below.
Unfortunately the sampling of non-white respondents was insufficient to demonstrate how they
felt about such treatment.
He asked if I had ever heard of Capt. Hugh Mulzac of the
Booker T. Washington,669 and when he found I had, told
about another Captain of his acquaintance, who was at the time
Second Mate of the Liberty ship, George Walton, in convoy
behind the Washington. Apparently the Washington was
finding it difficult to keep position, and disregarding messages
from the Walton, making her job of following even harder than
usual, and pushing her into the dangerous position of a
straggler. The Walton‟s Second Mate persuaded the Captain to
let him take over and bore down heavily on the Washington
“nudging” her from only fifty feet astern (the normal distance
being 100-500 yards. When asked to ease off, he would not do
so. At length, the Washington threatened to report the
following vessel to the commodore and signalled to ask the
identity of her pursuer, who facetiously signalled back “S/S
Simon Legree of Mobile, Alabama”.670 There was no further
difficulty with the Washington. This was considered by the
informant to be a highly amusing incident.(HMC 90-52, TTC p.
S/ S
4)671
Most interviewees said there were few, if any, problems of ethnicity
aboard, primarily because non-whites were so few. A Canadian informant said
that one reason British-Canadian relations were so good was that there were so
many war casualties and Canadian-flag vessels preferred to replace crew
members with British, rather than minorities, especially Asians(Indians).(HMC
92-31, TTC p. 3)
Capt. Emerson Chodzko expressed a majority view, saying
there were no racial problems on American vessels, but that Pacific ships
carried few blacks, American Indians, or Chicanos;672 most non-white crew
were Filipinos and Hawaiians. Blacks were found mostly in Stewards‟
Departments. The National Maritime Union had lots of blacks, but the
Sailors‟ Union of the Pacific did not. There were no problems; they were all
out for the war effort.(HMC 89-2, TTC p. 3; HMC 89-5, TTC p. 2) Artie Grissom
669
. Mulzac was a black skipper, the first of his race to have to weather both an
Academy cadetship and the pressures of upgrading to Captain, despite the bigotry of many of
his classmates and fellow officers. The ship was a Liberty, named for a famous black
American; her crew was “checkerboarded” of radical leftists from the NMU and the book
about them [John Beecher, All Brave Sailors, (New York: L.B. Fischer, 1945)] would be
better history if it were not so heavily weighted with political propaganda.
670
. This is a reference to an episode the famous nineteenth-century novel Uncle
Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, in which the vicious white overseer, Simon Legree,
mercilessly pursues runaway black slaves.
671
. The actual man involved was the informant who never returned his release form,
so I shall not use his name, but he said the skipper of the Walton, Ernest Lewis, was still alive
and living on Cape Cod at the time of the interview in May of 1990.
672
. This is a socially acceptable term in the southwest U.S. for Latin-Americans or
“Latinos” of specifically Mexican descent.
agreed, but added that blacks were not assigned combat stations, even in the
U.S. Navy, although there were some amongst the crews.(HMC 89-3, TTC p. 2)
Two respondents in a joint interview agreed that, by halfway through the war,
ethnicity no longer mattered; prejudices were lost because one‟s life depended
on the next man. This was true of the Services, as well; people were accepted
at face value.(HMC 89-5, TTC p. 6) One of the TimeWatch interviewees,
however, said, “...I wouldn‟t say they were equal to the white people. They
were treated with a little...bit less respect than the whites,” and a non-white
veteran seaman said he had been called “nigger” and “sambo” and that officers
had been harsher with him and less inclined to explain things like blackout
regulations than to simply shout at him for disobeying through ignorance.673
Capt. Billy Aguilar, of Mexican descent, said racial relationships were
more liberal on the U.S. West Coast than in the South, and the only problems
aboard occurred in Southern ports. Some black Stewards were afraid to
discharge in New Orleans because of racism ashore.(HMC 90-2, TTC p. 1) Gulf
Coast vessels seldom carried racially mixed crews.(HMC 90-3, TTC p. 2) Few of
those interviewed had noticed any Mexicans amongst the crews, but two
informants said they had sailed with “Spanish”, which from their age and
residential area, I assumed to mean Mexicans.674(HMC 90-28, TTC p. 1; HMC 9030, TTC p. 3)
On the Atlantic Seaboard there was not much of an ethnic mix, so
there was little tension, and what there was was usually human -- individual
personality conflict -- often aggravated by drink.675(HMC 90-3, TTC p. 2) Charlie
Baca, a Native American, made no reference whatsoever to racially connected
remarks, or incidents, and one could well believe he had never experienced
673
. TimeWatch script, 10.
. Both these men were long-time residents of California. I know from personal
experience that, until the early 1950s, the “politically correct” usage there for persons of
Mexican descent was “Spanish”.
675
. The President Harrison, however, carried both Chinese and black crewmen in
addition to whites. [David H. Grover and Gretchen G. Grover, Captives of Shanghai: The
Story of the President Harrison, (Napa CA: Western Maritime Press, 1989)].
674
any sort of prejudice aboard. In fact, at one point he maintained strongly that
everybody got along well and there were no problems.(HMC 90-23, TTC p. 1)
Another informant, also of American Indian heritage, maintained that
relationships between people of different backgrounds were quite good. They
accepted each other as human beings whether “coloured”676 or white. He
illustrated this by a story about being fired because of some sort of shipboard
politics677 and discovering a black Fireman on his watch had quit as a result.
He said, “like all Americans”, seamen will fight if they have cause, otherwise
they will not do much. If one American sailor is in trouble in a foreign
country, however, others will help him.(HMC 90-42, TTC pp. 2-3) Bill Kirby felt
ethnicity was unimportant -- people were just people -- in the Merchant
Service, most people he met were pleasant. Once, when the ship arrived in
Seattle, Kirby had been looking forward to a night ashore, but he drew watch.
The Cook, a black man, went ashore, bought good food and whiskey, and
returned to fix a superb meal for the watch before taking his shore time -- a
very considerate gesture.(HMC 90-13, TTC p. 4)
We sailed out the Golden Gate on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
Sunday was steak day. The cook, a big, wall-eyed black, came
out to number 3 hold, where everyone off watch was sitting
looking at the scenery and wondering, and said he was taking
orders for our steaks. That meal was superb. So were the rest
of the meals. A week later we left San Pedro on a Sunday
afternoon. We were enjoying the sight of Catalina Island when
the cook came out. The men began to tell him how they wanted
their steaks. He glared at us and said, “Fuck you, you honky
sons of bitches.” We never had a decent meal on that ship
again.
On my first trip as 3rd mate, the crew was quite mixed. I had a
black on my watch as an AB. There seemed to be no friction.
On that trip the chief engineer was a Saudi Arabian. He treated
the blacks in the engine room so badly that we on deck were
676
. The term “coloured” was “politically correct” until the 1960s in North America,
where it referred specifically to blacks of African/Caribbean descent. It is also worth noting
that this Native American regarded himself as “white” in this context.
677
. His employment was terminated in Seattle, but he was told to meet the ship in
Houston, where he would be rehired.
surprised that some one didn‟t throw him in the furnace. He
earned it.678
One respondent admitted being racially prejudiced himself, and said
there was “a lot of it” during the Second World War and even the American
Armed Services679 were segregated, but there were “never enough blacks
aboard to be a problem”. This man moved from the Stewards‟ Department to
the Deck Crew because he did not like working in a subordinate position to
black Cooks, but the only blacks he ever saw aboard were in the
Stewards‟[Catering] Department. One “big black Cook” did not make enough
bread, so he was dunked overboard in a storm. “It was not racism; his colour
did not matter. He was just too good a baker for his own good.” This
informant did not believe any crew he ever sailed with had any animosity to
anyone except that one Cook and that was not because of his race, but because
he did not bake enough bread to be adequate for the nightlunch as well as
regular meals.(HMC 90-14, TTC pp. 1 and 3; and HMC 90-15, TTC p. 2) A similar
story came from the Engine Department. A black Relief Engineer “got
himself fired for bringing a woman aboard”, although he was also incompetent
in his job. His firing, I was told, was not arbitrary and had nothing to do with
his race. It was documented when the union patrolman came aboard.
“Nobody lets a good man go.”(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 4) This axiom seems to have
been substantiated by the testimony of Edward Richards as cited earlier in this
Section.
Remarkably enough, the only respondent from Alabama was white, but
a member of the National Maritime Union, known for accepting more
minorities (specifically blacks) than other unions, and was in the
678
. Quoted verbatim from John B. Wilson‟s letter of 19 March 1990, with only
obvious typographical errors corrected.
679
. Segregation was still in force in the U.S. Army until 1947.(HMC 90-44, TTC p.
3) My father, a Chief Petty Officer in the U.S. Navy, who trained recruits at the base in San
Diego, California, spoke of working with “jig regiments”, “jig” being a slang and somewhat
pejorative term for blacks, then (unfortunately) in common use.
Stewards‟[Catering] Department, where most blacks served. He said most
blacks aboard were in the Stewards‟ Department, but there were only a few.
Once they had a black Chief Steward, and the respondent, coming aboard, had
to check in and identify himself as a white man from Alabama. He was
worried about how this black man might feel about him, but the black was a
good Steward. The respondent said “Yessir; nossir” to him and did not mind,
considering the man as good as any other Steward. That was the only black
Chief Steward he ever saw. There were occasionally black Messmen, but he
never saw a black deckhand.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 4)
Many Pacific Ocean sailors cited Polynesians or Hawaiians amongst
the crews with whom they shipped. One is immediately reminded of the story
in Chapter Two of the “Kanaka troublemaker” whose only real offence was
that he was not a Scandinavian-American “squarehead”.(HMC 90-8, TTC p. 2)
Another vessel had a Kanaka as Officers‟ Mess Boy. This one was a terrible
fighter and was sent to the crew‟s mess, but the demotion was personal, rather
than racial.(HMC 89-6, TTC p. 2) There used to be a lot of Kanakas on West
Coast (U.S.) ships, and even a few on the East Coast. Some were officers.
One man interviewed had sailed on a coastwise ship from the West to the East
Coast on which the First Assistant Engineer was a Kanaka, whom he described
as a “damn good man”.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 5)
One respondent who had sailed with Polynesians said they were called
“pineapples”, although this usage, however apt, does not appear to have been
very widespread.680 There were no blacks or Mexicans on the ships in which
he served, but immediately after the war he sailed with some “exotics”, such as
“a fuzzy-wuzzy from the Sudan” with tribal scars.(HMC 90-3, TTC p. 2) An
Armed Guard informant sailed with blacks, Orientals, and “a lot of
680
. See the Section on nicknames in Chapter Eight for further discussion of this
term.
Hawaiians"“ There was no general trouble at all, but one personal conflict
fight. “Nobody slurred anybody, „cause we‟re all in the damn thing together.
... If you had a personal difference, you just didn‟t talk to the guy, that‟s all.
... Probably a lot of guys didn‟ like me and I didn‟ like them, so we just stayed
out of each other‟s way.”(HMC 90-4, TTC p. 2)
“Politically correct” language usages came under discussion at one
point, and Jack McGinty expressed regret that the term “black gang” is no
longer a universally acceptable reference to the Engine Department, but shared
my amusement that the “niggerhead”681 is now called the “gypsy head”. There
seems to be no alternative to an ethnically deprecatory term for this apparatus.
Such terms were “never meant derogatorily, but you have to be careful, as
there are all kinds aboard ship now”. In the old New England sailing days, it
was a family concern, but those days are past; there is no pride now; it is just a
job to make money. Old-timers felt the sea was their life and that they did not
fit in ashore. It is all different now. There is a lack of respect."(HMC 90-37, TTC
p. 1)
A British informant, at one point, speaking of West Indian Firemen,
ostensibly stopped himself in mid-sentence from using the phrase “working
like a black”, saying, “I daren‟t use the expression these days”, and changing it
to “working mighty hard”.(HMC 92-62, TTC p. 5)
There was basically a great deal of racial prejudice aboard, said a few
interviewees, but it was “divided by unions”. The National Maritime Union
was the most democratic. There were no blacks in the Seafarers‟ International
Union except in the Stewards‟[Catering] Department.682 It was accepted
practice at the time to ship no “checkerboard” Departments, so any given
Department was either all black or all white.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 3) Prior to 1949
681
. A sort of drum/winch/capstan used to tighten mooring lines and the like, and socalled for centuries.
682
. It is to be strongly emphasised that this is no longer the case, and the SIU is now
an equal opportunity union in all respects.
only the NMU shipped “checkerboarded” crews. SIU crews were strictly
white with the possible exception of an all-black Stewards‟/Catering
Department.(HMC 90-51, TTC p. 2) Doyle Bales‟s experience seems to bear this
out. He sailed with a “checkerboard” crew, and said there was some primarily
racial animosity toward the Stewards‟[Catering] Department, also asserting
that “they” [blacks] are talkative.(HMC 90-35, TTC p. 1) This sort of off-hand
remark was casually thrown into the testimony by any number of respondents,
indicating a sort of unconscious ethnic awareness of “them” and “us” and of
some sort of invisible line between the two. For others the ethnic situation
posed no problem; they considered racial relations to be very good. There
appeared to be a strict and seldom-broken, although unofficial, rule that
serious disputes were between black and black or between white and white,
never between white and black, not aboard ship.(HMC 90-51, TTC p. 2; HMC 9075, TTC p. 1)
Coming from the American South, “Tex” English had his eyes opened
by a shipboard experience. He did not have a particularly bigoted background,
except as was usual for the time; as a child, he was more ignorant than
intolerant, and was never involved in fights resulting from racial prejudice.
On his first and second ships there were no blacks, but a few Filipinos. On his
third ship there was a black Portuguese named Silva -- a nice guy. He was
Deck Crew683 and “Tex”, on his second voyage aboard as “acting AB”,684 told
Silva to take either of the unoccupied bunks in the two-man forecastle they
were to share. They talked about their backgrounds and about girls and cars.
When Silva left the ship, Tex remembers being surprised that he was “just the
same as I am”. It was a revelation. That was the first black man with whom
he had ever had a real conversation.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 1)
683
. Interestingly enough, English did not seem to feel a black deckhand was
unusual.
684
. Note earlier remarks concerning the British ratings of “Sailor” and “EDH”,
both of which correspond to “acting AB”.
Pat Brinkley sailed primarily with whites from the Pacific Coast of the
U.S.A., although there were some Filipinos. Relations were good, and most
crewmen were well-educated. One small Filipino Cook, a black belt in karate,
said he would give Brinkley fifty dollars for every time he (Brinkley) could
touch him (the Filipino) with a table knife. Brinkley was large, weighing
about 210 pounds (fifteen stone), and the Cook was only about 110 (less than
eight stone), but he threw Brinkley all over the room, while Brinkley never
touched him. “It was kind of frustrating, but fun.”(HMC 90-43, TTC p. 2) This
sort of horseplay clearly indicates a somewhat relaxed social atmosphere
aboard, far more than some socio-psychologists would have us believe.685
Another respondent reinforced this, by saying the crews he sailed with were
“just plain old American kids” -- some were “Spanish” and a few were black.
They had similar educational backgrounds and did their jobs, so there were no
problems.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 3)
One Chief Engineer said the best possible crew has no two men of the
same racial, national, or regional background in any given department; that
way there are not enough to gang up on the others.686 He did not recall sailing
on any ship where racial tension was of any significance, and said race was not
a big problem, because “Americans are used to getting along with people who
are different ... California is one place where Armenians are fairly safe.”(HMC
90-8, TTC p. 2)
Ethnic enclaves within the crews, generally associating only
with those of their own background, developed despite the best-laid plans of
Chief Engineers, however, and occasionally deckhands would become friendly
with Engine Crew of similar background or ethnicity.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 3)
One British interviewee, who had been in a Merchant Navy prisonerof-war camp, declared there is a kind of “Freemasonry” among sailors of all
685
. Sherar, 12, says the monotony of shipboard life leads to a build-up of tension.
. The same informant illustrated this opinion with the “Kanaka troublemaker”
story reported in Chapter Two.
686
nations. If one behaves, one can get on with any nationality. That, he said,
was the reason there was no brutality in the POW camp.(HMC 92-36, TTC p. 2)
Another respondent, who had sailed with many different nationalities,
mentioned specifically one Jewish Second Cook who had lost most of his
family in the Holocaust, but was a “nice guy” and would lend his shoregoing
gear when not using it himself. This interviewee also characterised Dutch
seamen as friendly. He had met one or two “cranks”, but that, he said, was no
reflection on their national or ethnic background. “You get cranks
everywhere. They‟re ten a penny.”(HMC 92-44, TTC p. 6) An American
informant said one occasionally got ashore with foreign nationals when a
convoy was forming, but the groups did not really mingle. Basically he and
his shipmates looked for “other Yanks” at dance halls, bars, and other venues
ashore.(HMC 90-15, TTC p. 1) The only foreign crews Americans ever
“hobnobbed” with were the English, who had no use for them anyway.(HMC
90-15, TTC p. 2)
Another American respondent remembered only problems with
the “limeys”, including a fight which was such a big incident that the British
involved were loaded into a truck(lorry) and removed. When the informant‟s
vessel sailed, about ten days later, the British ship was still abandoned except
for a sentry.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3)
British and American seafarers were not always at odds, however, as
Capt. J.K. Gorrie stated:
“I think the American merchant marine did a fine job ...
considering where most of ‟em came from.... Half of ‟em were
farmers from the country somewhere or other and they manned
these Liberty ships, and, y‟know, they weren‟t very nice ships,
and I think they did a very good job m‟self, especially toward
the end of the war, when they‟d got into it....”(HMC 92-51, TTC p.
6)
One British seafarer, repatriated on a Dutch vessel, said the Dutch did
not realise what he and his shipmates had just been through, torpedoed, in a
lifeboat, and all the rest of it. They were treated as a different class because
they were English. At first they were treated like swine, and one man accused
them of bigotry because he had seen how blacks were treated in South Africa
by both the Dutch Boers and the English. The informant had to convince him
that seafarers were different, “We‟re doing a job.” The Dutch came round in
the end.(HMC 92-46, TTC p. 1) In contrast, another British respondent was on a
little Dutch cargo boat during the Sicily landings. She was a very good ship
with an all Dutch crew plus a couple of Royal Navy gunners. The respondent
joined her with the DEMS gunners and was the only Englishman -- actually the
only non-Dutchman -- in the merchant crew, although they had a West African
Galley Boy. They all got along marvellously and he considered the Dutch
great people.(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 5)
The most racially-biased comments of North American interviewees,
aside from those of the single respondent cited previously, were mild in the
extreme. One American said he had been “shanghaied by scabs” for a tanker
with a crew of “Hindus” before joining the union.(HMC 90-41, TTC pp. 1 and 3),
and a Newfoundlander said he had been asked to bring a crew to New York to
man a ship whose primarily West Indian crew had deserted when they found
the cargo was munitions.(HMC 91-5, TTC p. 3) A third interviewee
acknowledged that rescuers picking up survivors took the most distressed first.
On his vessel, the Firemen were Maltese and although they were not
considered ethnically inferior in any way, their situation down below had made
them more upset, as they could not see what was happening; also many were
older men and wet from abandoning ship. They were therefore taken in the
first load and more Deck sailors were left behind for the next plane.(HMC 92-55,
TTC p. 5)
One British M.R.A. gunner observed “a lot of trouble” in Archangel
between white American seamen and black American seamen, the latter
mostly Stewards; the whites apparently thought themselves better than the
blacks. He disagreed with that attitude, as they were on the same ship doing
the same jobs, and he did not consider it a problem of rival trade unions. He
himself sailed with Chinese and Lascar crews and there was no trouble with
either, except in the boats when they were adrift and the non-whites seemed to
feel they deserved food and drink priority when the entire group was trying to
conserve and ration the stores. A non-white crewmember supposedly tried to
knife someone else to gain advantage in a lifeboat when the Bolton Castle was
sunk. Another vessel had a Chinese crew and, when they left port, the
Quartermaster who should have taken the first trick at the wheel refused to
come to the bridge as he had lost all his money at mah jong. The Chief Officer
had him handcuffed to the deck machinery during watches and when the ship
began taking seas, he decided to return to work. “The officers had to know
how to deal with ethnic crews.”(HMC 92-14, TTC p. 4) This remark, following,
as it does, a denial of interracial tensions and a disclosure of the abuse of
authority, is an indication of the difference in attitude between British and
North American seafarers toward racist behaviour at that period in history.
British Imperial racism appears to have arisen from preservation of the class
system, while American racism seems to have resulted more from ignorance
and fear on a more even economic level.
Opinions differed according to individual experience as to the ethnic
mix aboard ship and the resultant existence or lack of tension. Two
interviewees said there was no ethnic mix in the crews with whom they sailed.
All were whites of European ancestry. Differences in national and regional
backgrounds, however, were noted, and such contrasts appear to have formed
the basis for much more friction aboard than did ethnicity or race.(HMC 90-4,
TTC p. 3; HMC 90-11, TTC p. 1)
Others said there were some blacks, almost
always in the Catering[Stewards‟] Department, however, relations were good
and there were no fights. All looked after one another, considering themselves
brothers aboard ship. They would also help seamen from other ships when
ashore, if the latter appeared to be in trouble or too drunk to get back aboard
on their own vessels.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 3) As far as blacks went, you get away
from prejudices -- a man is a man. One naturally preferred certain people to
others, but if a man did the job, he was okay.(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 4) One
respondent found his black shipmates “wonderful members of the crew,
always good workers, clean, very polite and good friends to go ashore with”.
He said there were no ethnic tension problems whatsoever, and believed ethnic
problems were a recent development, as during the war they were “all one big
family” and that was how they treated each other aboard.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 3)
Another, whose experience of ethnically mixed crews included black Jamaican
Firemen, also said, “There was never any trouble. They‟d do anything you
asked ‟em to do.”(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 4) A rating aboard a Royal Navy escort
vessel remarked that Merchant Navy crews were much mixed nationally and
ethnically, but there was never any friction to be seen, though “they were all
very pleased to see the Royal Navy”. He saw nothing of racial friction
between North American seamen, either, “but that doesn‟t mean to say it
didn‟t happen.”(HMC 92-18, TTC p. 6)
With the exception of individual personality conflicts there was hardly
any ethnic friction. The merchant marine was made up of “citizens of the
world” and was much more advanced in broad-mindedness than the
shorebound community.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 2) All nationalities got along aboard
ship, since “sailors are sailors and national background makes little or no
difference”.(HMC 90-10, TTC p. 5, HMC 90-11, TTC p. 2) One man asserted
relationships had been good aboard the vessels in which he served due to the
quality of men employed by his company; later in the war, when they could not
be so choosy, they had some problems. There were Chinese crews in the
Engine Room, then they began to hire whites, which caused some problems,
but these were minimal and more a matter of class and sea-lawyer left-wing
types than of ethnicity. “Seafaring on the whole is conservative, with a small
c. When the awkward cuss shows up, it interrupts the flow. The rest of the
group is not always ready to deal with it.”687 He was never on a ship where
there was any trouble except for the occasional fellow back from shore leave -nothing too important. Except for some of the Chinese, most crews were
British subjects. Most of the officers were British. Later on they had some
“mongrel” officers from Ceylon, Malaysia, West Africa, etc., but they were
probably all British subjects.(HMC 92-23, TTC p. 2) A Newfoundland informant
who sailed under Canadian, British, and Newfoundland flags, said the vessels
on which he served carried men from Australia, England, and “all over”, but
there were not many true “foreigners”, as most of the crewmen came from
Commonwealth countries.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 4)
As regards the British system of crew integration, the majority of crews
were white Englishmen, and even non-white crew members were nominally
English, being British subjects, whether domiciled in the United Kingdom or
colonial natives. Certain companies tended to hire white officers and picked
non-white crews from the colonies, but the Western Ocean liners did not.
Lines on the Indian run often hired Lascar crews and those which ran to Africa
hired Africans, some of whom would work for as little as two pounds a
month.(HMC 92-1, TTC p. 1-2) Quite a few British Engine Departments were
West Indian, especially Jamaican, but again mostly British subjects.688(HMC 925, TTC p. 6)
Many white British officers spent their entire seafaring careers
working with African, Lascar, or Oriental crews.
687
. This is an iterative entry, but I felt it belonged under both headings.
. Certain ethnic enclaves, such as the now mainly black area of “Tiger Bay” in
Cardiff, Wales, arose through colonial black seafarers settling in the home ports of the lines for
whom they shipped. Tiger Bay, like Scotland Road in Liverpool, was a known source of
manpower for the Engine Room.
688
Asked if departments were ever “checkerboarded”, Capt. Michael
Curtis said they never were. Nearly all his company‟s ships had Chinese
Engine Room crews and the majority also had Chinese Stewards. Deck crews
were generally white Merseysiders. It was quite common to have different
ethnicities in different Departments, in fact, but they never mixed.(HMC 92-31,
TTC pp. 1-2)
Another retired Master told me that, in the company for whom he
worked, Indian “Lascar” crews covered all three departments, each with its
own “serang” (head man or petty officer), although the certificated officers
were white. The war involved India, even without the Empire, as the Japanese
attacked Burma, Singapore, and other Asian areas,(HMC 92-5, TTC p. 6) but
Deck rating Joe Cunningham said many “ethnic” crews jumped ship because
they were not “committed to the same cause”.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 1)
One respondent sailed on many ships with Chinese689 ratings, although
the Engine Room would often be crewed by Lascars. Most seamen [Deck
crew] on British ships were British, but this respondent also sailed on a Dutch
ship which had an entirely Dutch crew. Chinese seamen from Hong Kong
crewed many merchant ships. The entire crew of one ship, bar officers, were
Chinese, but there was no racial tension, and they got along fine. The Chinese
had not bargained on the Russian convoy situation, though, and would not
have joined the ship if they had known. One of the Chinese galley staff after a
particularly bad air raid asked the respondent if he were afraid. When he said
he was, the Chinese nodded, “Me no likee Russia. Too much plenty bomb.”
Many would have agreed. Another incident on that convoy was a near miss
while the Chinese Cook was working in the galley. The impact blew food all
over the place, making a terrible mess. The Chinese Cook stood in the midst
of the debris, shaking his fist at the sky and saying, “Bloody blasted German!
689
. Several British respondents, although not all, used the term “coolie” in reference
to Chinese ratings. One indicated that all “coloureds” were called “coolies” and were given
less satisfactory accommodation than white crew or officers on prison ships.(HMC 92-62, TTC
p. 8)
Bloody blasted German! No can cook! No can cook!” There were never race
problems with Chinese crew. Possibly there were with blacks, but the
respondent had no experience of these.(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 4)690 Most evidence
of racist attitudes arose from stories such as the above, with its use of
perceived dialect or from PENs which depended on differing cultural
backgrounds to make their point.691
Joe Cunningham said African blacks were hired for “bilge-diving” -all the dirty jobs officers would not ask white crewmen to do. Black crew
members were sometimes teased by insensitive young whites, especially about
the job of applying graphite, because both it and they were black. Officers
who had handled ethnic crews were nervous about handling European crews,
especially “Brits” from famous seafaring towns with lots of family sea-going
heritage.(HMC 92-7, TTC p. 3)
As a Chief Baker and Confectioner, James McCaffrey sailed with
mostly British crews, despite the fact that he worked for a Canadian-flag
shipping line. There were only a few Canadian officers. Almost all the crews
were also white, except on his last ship, which had a Nigerian crew. The
question of racial relations he considered “a tough one”. No racial tension
originated from the whites aboard, but there was quite a bit of “reverse racism”
in that “the Africans could do no wrong”. For example, if there was dessert
left over from the passenger menu it was given to the crew. If the blacks
requested theirs after the supply was exhausted, they would claim they had
been denied their share because of racial prejudice. It was not prejudice; there
just was no more to be had.(HMC 92-9, TTC p. 4)
690
. I feel that this respondent‟s use of pidgin dialect in an essentially humorous
anecdotal situation indicates mild though not very significant racial bias.
691
. One is reminded of the academic dialect joke in which a man of European
background, seated next to a Chinese at a banquet, asks throughout the meal, “You likee soup?
You likee salad?” and so on. At the meal‟s conclusion, the Chinese rises and delivers an
address in perfect “Oxbridge” English, after which he resumes his seat, turns to his astounded
and embarrassed neighbour, and inquires, “You likee speech?”
Bill Fortune once sailed on a ship that carried white officers, a “coolie”
crew, and four white Quartermasters, of whom he was one. The fresh water
pump was only open an hour each day, even going through the Red Sea and
the Persian Gulf. The Quartermasters each had a two-gallon bucket for their
personal use, but each coolie had a ten-gallon drum to himself. Even
considering the different type of work they were doing, the ratio was very
unfair. It was a “three-island”692 steamship with steam-driven steering gear,
and the Quartermasters lived at the after end of the main deck in a sort of box
over the steering engine, where it was unbearably hot. Fortune made himself a
hammock and slept in it on deck, but the coolies had their own
accommodation “right aft”, where it was cooler.(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 6)
Some companies shipped full Chinese crews, and only the Deck
Officers, Engineers, and Gunner were white. Alan Peter got on well with
these crews and was assigned to help them with writing letters and sending
money home. He also had to assist them in going ashore in the U.S., because
of the heavy security there during the war. Peter could communicate with
them in a sort of pidgin sailor talk and would take six ashore at a time. They
had signed on in Singapore, but some were from Hong Kong and Shanghai,
and not all were British subjects. He helped them send money back to Hong
Kong and there were problems when Hong Kong fell. The Engine Room
crowd was mainly from Shanghai, the Catering Department mainly Hong
Kong. They were good men, got along well and were great.(HMC 92-35, TTC p.
3)
Geoffrey Arnold sailed with Anglo-Indian Lascar ratings. They got on very
well, as all were good workers and gave no trouble. Occasionally, however,
on going into port, the men had to sign chits or documents and many of the
692
. Not to be confused with a “Hog Islander”, a “three-island” ship in profile has
raised areas at bow, midships, and stern, separated by well-decks forward and aft.
Lascars were illiterate. Those who could write were very proud of the
fact.(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 5)693
About 1943, British merchant ships had some trouble with “semimutinies” (or “semi-strikes”) by Chinese crews in Australia. One informant‟s
ship had Chinese Cooks and Stewards, but Malay seamen.694 The Malays were
great; some had been on that ship for years. Then a directive came that all
British ships must fire Oriental crew, and they had to lose the nice Malays
along with the Chinese, because all were Oriental. They got Indians instead,
as Deck crowd, and Goanese as Cooks and Stewards. There were two Indians
for every Malay, because there were some jobs Indians would not do because
of their caste, and they had to hire someone who would. The Indians also
brought live animals aboard for their food.(HMC 92-26, TTC pp. 5-6)
The Deck Apprentices on one vessel stopped work for a “smokko” (tea
break). There is a hatch through which a teapot is put to be filled with hot
water by the Stewards, and for some reason, on this day, the Steward would
not fill it. The informant was the Senior Apprentice at the time and his mate
was a Cadet (not an Apprentice)695 who went to the galley and ended by hitting
the Chinese Galley Boy. All the Chinese then stopped work and sent a
deputation to tell the Captain they would not work as long as the Cadet
remained aboard, so he was told to leave the ship. His mates protested to the
Captain, but were told they were in a military zone and came under military
law, so he signed off, went back to Suez, and got a job as a Third Mate; it
turned out well for him. The Apprentices had to run the galley for about a
week while the Chinese refused to work. The Engineers had backed the
protest of the Cadet‟s sacking while the Deck officers had not, so the
693
. See Chapter Six for further reference to illiteracy.
. Seamen in this case refers to Deck crew.
695
. The reader is reminded that a Cadet signs on Ship‟s Articles every trip, like a
seaman, but an Apprentice is under indentures to the shipping company for four years.
694
Apprentices cooked for the Engineers, but not for their own officers. Massaua
was a very hot place and all they cooked was chips and tinned corned
beef.(HMC 92-26, TTC p. 5)
Perhaps, late in the war, when there was a manpower
shortage, crews might occasionally have been checkerboarded,
but not often. Races were almost never mixed on Deck except
for “the occasional Liverpool half-caste”, but there were a fair
number of Continental nationals, such as Lithuanians and
Estonians. On one vessel there were African and West Indian
Firemen, on another, Somalis. The Engineers were English, “of
course”, and the rest of the crews were Chinese.
With the exception of one abusive Master, there was no
trouble, and it was not Alan Peter‟s opinion alone that the man
was abusive. He had acquired the nickname of “Butcher”
before Peter joined the ship. “A couple” of other Masters Peter
sailed under were also “autocratic”. The Master of his last
vessel -- a Newcastle tramp -- was selling rice and other staple
food from the ship‟s stores to the Somali firemen, when they
should have been fed in the ship‟s mess free of charge. She
was a bad feeding ship anyway. A night or two at sea, Peter
passed the Donkeyman‟s room and smelled lamb curry and rice
cooking. Asked where he had got it, the Donkeyman said he
had “bought it off the Old Man.”(HMC 92-35, TTC p. 5)
Individual foreign nationals aboard American- or British-flag ships,
were widely dispersed. One U.S. Master had once had a Greek Chief Officer,
as men with licences were difficult to find, and one black Chief Steward, but
he sailed primarily with white Americans.(HMC 89-5, TTC p. 2) An ATS
Paymaster helped liberate some Free French from one of the Caribbean
islands. Some, especially the officers, spoke English, and one knew they
would fight for the “right side”, so he “had a great time” with them.(HMC 89-5,
TTC p. 6)
A Cadet sailed under a sixty-five-year-old Norwegian Captain who
was licensed in sail as well as in steam and who ate kippered herring and
boiled potatoes for breakfast.(HMC 89-6, TTC p. 1) One interviewee said he only
sailed in American-flag ships, but there were many foreign nationals in the
crews. He learned to cook Chinese when in a Houston, Texas, rooming-house
with a number of Chinese ABs. His feeling was that most people from
overseas are awfully nice -- not the governments! -- the people.(HMC 90-42, TTC
p. 3)
In general, relations between foreign nationals or foreign-born crew and
North Americans were seen to be good.(HMC 90-31, TTC p. 3) An informant
from Georgia stated that although there were a few foreign nationals during the
war, before its outbreak Savannah Lines had hired Portuguese Coal-Passers
and Firemen. When these men upgraded, they were replaced with blacks, as
communications with the “illiterate”696 Portuguese were difficult. Before the
war they had perhaps ten Portuguese in the company‟s ships, two to a ship.
About seven of these men had no citizenship papers and did not get them until
the war. They all got along.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 2) There were lots of foreigners
aboard ship before the war and before the union was organised. Some were
aliens without visas.697 Also before the unions took over, some companies
“hired” students in the summer for free as sort of “workaways”.698 They were
given better quarters and conditions than the average seaman, and they went
ashore as soon as the ship arrived in port. The seamen did not think the
practice fair and it was eventually eliminated. “You couldn‟t work a seaman
on the way back.” A man who had missed his ship could not get a workaway
home, as he had already lost his pay when he missed his ship and was no
longer “on Articles”, but remained the company‟s responsibility until he
officially signed off.699(HMC 90-66, TTC p. 2) In contrast, when most of the crew
of the sunken Georgic was brought home from Egypt aboard a Dutch ship,
Bob Parr worked his way back, as the Dutch vessel was short-handed,
although his crewmates sailed as passengers.700 This gave him sea time so he
could sign on his next voyage as an AB.(HMC 92-2, TTC p. 1)
696
. This was the interviewee‟s word.
. One respondent mentioned a German Bosun who joined his company after
World War I and was deported just before World War II, having sailed from 1928 to 1938
without citizenship papers.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 2)
698
. A “workaway” is one who is not officially signed on Articles as a paid member
of the crew, but whose labour is solely to pay for his passage.
699
. Or until the Articles were closed when the ship paid off at the end of the voyage.
700
. Actually they were sailing as DBS, or Distressed British Seamen.
697
One respondent said there was a great ethnic mix on American-flag
ships, including many foreigners, often seafarers who had been at sea when the
war broke out and had no home other than the ship in which they served, so
the situation was complicated if their vessel was sunk. When the war was
over, anyone who had sailed for five years in an American ship was entitled to
apply for U.S. citizenship, but many did not want it because, as non-citizens,
they did not have to pay American income tax. Finally they were prosecuted
for taking jobs from U.S. citizens. Now one cannot ship aboard a U.S.-flag
vessel unless s/he is a U.S. citizen.(HMC 90-5, TTC p. 2) Foreign nationals were
permitted aboard up to a certain percentage of the crew, and the respondent
who gave this information had never sailed with a crew which exceeded that
percentage -- a distinct minority. They got along fine with the rest of the
crew.(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 3)
One respondent had only sailed with American nationals, but some of
his earlier crewmates had acquired American citizenship by jumping
Scandinavian ship.701 There were a lot of “squareheads”702 -- good sailors but
stubborn and hard to get along with, especially the ones from the steam
schooners -- they were hard workers, fighters, and drinkers. The respondent
always got along with them, as he “knew how to roll with the flow”.(HMC 9037, TTC p. 3)
One reason for the decline of the U.S. Merchant Marine is that
American ships must meet U.S. Coast Guard standards. Other countries find
sailing cheaper because their crew safety standards are lower.(HMC 90-38, TTC
p. 3)
As bad as American ships were, foreign ones were worse. Greek ships
701
. To “jump ship” is to leave a ship illegally without signing off Articles. These
men would then have signed on U.S. vessels before the laws were tightened up and after a time
would have applied for and acquired naturalisation papers, as elaborated below by Capt.
Larsen.
702
. The reader is reminded that this term is a nickname or blason populaire for
those of Scandinavian or Teutonic origin.
were the filthiest and the hungriest.(HMC 90-31, TTC p. 3) There were some
foreign nationals amongst the crews, replacements for those who had got
dengué fever and other such diseases. It was not exactly common, but not
unusual either and, although the ship was obliged to take whatever men the
consul gave them, there were no problems. American ships were good to sail
on because they were good feeders and had union hours, overtime, and the
like. It was not common to ship foreign nationals, but there were no
obstacles.(HMC 90-60, TTC p. 2)
Three men who were interviewed jointly, one Danish by birth, agreed
there were many foreign nationals in U.S.-flag ships‟ crews before and during
the war. Before 1920 most crews were fifty-percent foreign; now ten percent
is the legal limit, but laws mean nothing; one respondent was signed on three
ships at once (by the same commissioner) to make room for foreigners.
Danish-born Capt. Evald Larsen explained how a foreigner could join the U.S.
Merchant Marine, as he had; a foreigner who sails three years on United States
ships can become a citizen. Capt. Larsen came to the United States in 1920,
and sailed aboard everything from a canal barge to an ocean liner before
acquiring his citizenship.(HMC 90-55, TTC pp. 1-2)
Capt. Ted Hostetter disagreed with the allegations of the above trio,
saying there were no foreign nationals aboard; one had to be a United States
citizen to sign on Articles, although foreigners “in distress” might be brought
back. He then contradicted himself by saying he believed they had hired a
couple of foreigners when short of men somewhere in the Pacific and the U.S.
consul there had given the new men papers indicating they were suitable for
entry into the States. He also recalled a Greek Captain who had to sign on as
an Ordinary Seaman and then be promoted; he could not sign on as an officer
because he was a foreigner.(HMC 90-54, TTC p. 3) Another interviewee added
that there were American undesirables in foreign ports, and an expatriate was
never signed on in such a place unless desperately needed.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 3)
Yet another North American respondent said there were not many
expatriates on United States-flag ships, probably no more than two or three in
any given crew.(HMC 90-15, TTC p. 1) Latin American, North African and
Oriental seamen were as likely to sail on American, Canadian, and British
vessels as were Europeans exiled from their Axis-occupied homelands, but in
even smaller numbers. Among the nationalities cited as having sailed aboard
American and Canadian ships were Peruvians, Panamanians, Puerto Ricans
(whom the informants apparently considered foreign, despite the fact that
Puerto Rico is a U.S. protectorate), Venezuelans, and Brazilians, Israelis,
Arabs, Egyptians, Filipinos, Chinese and Koreans, Italians, Portuguese,
Spaniards, Greeks, Russians, Estonians, Latvians, Austrians, Danish, Swedes,
Norwegians, Dutch and Belgians, even a few older German nationals,703 plus
Australians, Canadians, Irish, Scots, Welsh and English, and one man from
French Martinique.
One interviewee said after the war many of the crew left his ship in
Port Said and an international crew was recruited. The Captain left for health
reasons and the informant took command, having many problems “back aft”704
which he could not control due to a lack of discipline attributed by him to the
American seamen‟s dislike of the foreigners. He hastened to add that, during
the war, seafarers of differing backgrounds got along well.(HMC 90-36, TTC p. 1)
Another respondent said probably fewer than ten of the crew of his first ship
were American-born. Relations between those of different backgrounds were
not very good -- nothing serious, but “a lot of hassling”, especially due to the
703.
Like the man mentioned just above in footnote 151.
. “Back aft” is a reference to the crew‟s accommodations in many modern vessels.
Although the term “fo‟c‟sle” is still used for crew‟s quarters, they are now more often found in
the after section of cargo vessels and tankers without passenger accommodation.
704
language barrier.705 There were no vicious fights, but “little squabbles and
„family arguments‟”.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 3)
A fair number of ratings carried a regular foreign-flag union book as
well as an American or British one, and Jim Cunningham shipped out of
Scandinavian union halls in New York when he could not find an American
ship. He remarked, as an aside, that suicide by jumping overboard was quite
common on Swedish ships. There were lots of mixed nationality crews, as
American union leaders would sign on foreign nationals “for the duration plus
six months”.(HMC 90-10, TTC pp. 3-4) Another respondent said there were
always foreign nationals amongst the crews, but not many, and quite a few
were Hispanics. Officers, however, had to be U.S. citizens.(HMC 90-58, TTC p.
2)
Among the British sampling, quite naturally, as they were mostly from
the Liverpool area, there were a good many interviewees of Irish descent, as
well as two men who were born in the Republic of Ireland and three from
Northern Ireland. Outside of nicknames like “Mick” and “Paddy” and the
occasional reference to the large proportion of seamen out of West Coast
English ports who were either Irish or of Irish extraction, little indication was
given of a real awareness of that nationality. North Americans, however, have
long had a fictive romance with “Irishness” which is displayed vividly on St.
Patrick‟s Day, when many bars put green colouring in the beer, decorations
feature shamrocks and leprechauns, and there is a widespread market for items
such as T-shirts and button/badges with slogans like “Kiss me, I‟m Irish”.
This predilection was evidenced in the testimony of the men, as well, for
William Krasnosky asserted that in order to be lucky, one must be Irish and he
705
. One respondent had shipped with a Spaniard who spoke no English and a man
from French Martinique who could neither speak it nor understand it; somehow, however, they
managed to communicate.(HMC 90-51, TTC p. 2)
had “changed his name to O‟Krasnosky” in order to benefit.706 Capt. Evald
Larsen, Danish by birth, assumed the character of his adopted homeland when,
turning to a co-informant of Irish descent, Capt. William Dennis, he said, “Us
Irish gotta stick together.” (HMC 90-56, TTC p. 1) Remarks such as these, along
with the prevalence of generalised nicknames based on national backgrounds
(“bohunk” [Bohemian], “Squarehead” [Scandinavian], ”hunky” [Hungarian]
“polack” [Pole]. and so on) give a clear indication that one‟s family‟s national
roots were usually of more consequence to North American seamen and North
Americans in general than was one‟s local or regional origin.
Despite this fact, New Englanders had a predisposition to ships sailing
from Northern ports and Gulf [of Mexico] sailors did not mix well with them.
Crews shipping from Boston were basically made up of New Englanders and
Gulf ships carried Mobileans. New York crews were more mixed, and often
included survivors of torpedoed foreign vessels, who were usually among the
more skilled ratings. There were more of these at the start of 1943, even
including foreign officers with waivers of their licences.707 Still there was little
actual ethnic tension, although some “boxheaders” (Scandinavians) considered
themselves superior in seamanship to those of other backgrounds. Younger
men aboard were fascinated by the tales of whaling and such told by the more
experienced foreigners.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 3) Foreign nationals got along
“okay” in the crews. It was a war situation, so you picked up people. There
was even a shortage of officers. One respondent sailed as Third Mate on a
ship in which the Norwegian Chief Mate, unable to use American navigation
tables, could not, therefore, fulfil all the duties expected of his rank. They
went from New York to South America and back to Mobile in convoy and
were commodore ship twice.(HMC 90-67, TTC p. 5) On another ship, the
706
. This story is fully cited in both Chapter Two and Chapter Seven.
. Shipping such men was common during the war. One Chief Mate had to have
his Swedish licence verified by a cablegram from the Swedish consul.(HMC 90-51, TTC p. 2)
707
same man sailed with another Norwegian Chief Mate, a naturalised U.S.
citizen, who used his own Norwegian navigation tables. The respondent
believed he could probably have used the American tables as well.(HMC 9068, TTC p. 1)
The first Captain one American informant sailed under was German by
birth -- an ex-World War I U-boat commander -- and he was quite old, as well,
but the informant “loved him and would have gone anywhere with him”.
There was also a congenial Russian Chief Mate aboard. At one time the
informant and two other Ordinary Seamen developed a convivial relationship
with the two officers when the five spent time aboard a ship “laid up” in
Bizerte in North Africa. Once a week, two of the five would take a lifeboat to
the opposite side of the lake for a five-gallon jug of “vino” -- a week‟s supply - and there was much fraternisation because they were so few. One day the
Captain goose-stepped for them, but the informant never learned how it was
properly done. The last time the informant heard of him, the Captain was in
trouble and sinking in the North Atlantic aboard another vessel.(HMC 90-42,
TTC pp. 2-3)708
Unlike this congenial German Captain, “Fritz”, a middle-aged Chief
Steward of German descent, nearly provoked a mutiny in his own Department
through being a “whip” who ruled with a heavy hand. He may or may not
have been naturalised, as he was not allowed ashore in Canada, but perhaps
had only had trouble with someone ashore there. As to the “mutiny”, about
four hours before sailing time, the Catering staff went in a body and asked to
leave the ship. The officers sent for the union representative,709 who
708
. Bits of this testimony are cited in a previous Section, but it was felt that it was
worthwhile to re-present the background before citing directly from the interview data.
709
. This was when “Tex” English first joined the NMU, as the contract required all
seamen to have a union book if they wanted to stay aboard. “You had to pay seventeen dollars
to join, plus three dollars for the first month‟s dues. It was a ridiculous sum for the time. It
now costs three hundred dollars or so to start and fifty dollars a month, but the wages now are
fantastic.” “Tex” had no problem joining, as he had belonged to a shoreside union
previously.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 4)
reprimanded them, saying they could not hold up the ship. He also said Fritz
“needed a rest” and should take some time off, but he asked the others to stay
on at least as far as the next port, as the union had agreed they would never
delay a sailing during wartime. Fritz simmered down and at the next port he
took a vacation. In retrospect, now that he is older, Tex can be generous to
Fritz and perhaps see his point of view: he had been aboard for a long time; his
nerves were shot; perhaps he had family trouble; he was trying to “run a tight
ship”, and his ethnic background was that of the enemy. Tex also remembered
“Robert”, the crotchety old Radio Operator, who wanted to make his own
bunk the way he liked it and disliked the Stewards‟ intrusion. “Damned
housework!”(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 4)
A Canadian respondent had himself skippered an 18,000-ton ship with
a crew of forty-three, of whom eleven were Canadians and the rest mostly
Latin American and West Indian. “When you look at those foreign nationals,”
he said, “one good professional Canadian seaman is equal to about three of
those in performance and work output. It‟s hard to believe, but true -- they are
very slow workers.” The language problem was not bad, however. Most of
the foreign crew spoke Spanish, but many could cope with English. This was
beneficial, as Anglophones are lazy about learning other languages.(HMC 90-71,
TTC p. 5)
“Tex” English served in one vessel with seamen of at least three
other nationalities,(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 2) and one Newfoundlander said he had
served aboard one vessel with twenty-eight of his fellow islanders, but all his
other ships had mixed crews, especially British-flag vessels, which were
crewed primarily by Scots and Englishmen.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 3) On the
Panchito, another Newfoundlander was one of three “whites” aboard. There
was every nationality, mostly Greeks, although most spoke English, if only in
a strange pidgin form. They got along fine; in fact, with so many nationalities,
they got along better than most. When crewmen were all from one ethnic
group and the officers from another, there tended to be problems. On one
such, they had a full-scale mutiny. There was some hostility between
Newfoundlanders and British. “We had the worst kind of Limeys, b‟y, I don‟t
care who hears it,” he said. The problems were class distinctions in food and
conditions. The Newfoundland crew had replaced 144 Indian Lascars and the
Officers were accustomed to being racist and “superior”.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 3)
There were many mixed nationality crews. Most British interviewees
had found it no problem to get on with them, although when asked if they were
actually international and not just British subjects of different backgrounds, the
most common admission was, “Well, even the Chinese were British, from
Hong Kong.”(HMC 92-3, TTC p. 3) Another typical statement was, “No, not
really -- there were Maltese and there were Somalis. They were British
subjects.”(HMC 92-50, TTC p. 8) There was, however, one Liverpool respondent
who said he had never sailed with foreign nationals. In his words, “No, a
British merchant ship is a British merchant ship -- all the ones I‟ve been on
anyway.”(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 4)
I was interested that Glaswegian Herbert Taylor had been in the Deck
crew, as Scots are traditionally Engine Department aboard deep-sea vessels.710
He said perhaps the reason behind this tradition was that it was “a well-known
fact” that in the past the best ships were built on the Clyde and it has been
known that an Engineer from Glasgow might sail in a ship for which he
himself had built the engine. Good Firemen, he opined, come from Liverpool,
however. He maintained that “they say” the best ships have Scots on Deck
and Liverpudlians below, especially on liners. “You could check that out with
CPR.”711 That “suited the officers and was the best set-up”. I asked if all the
710
. Guy Gilpatric‟s “Mr. Glencannon” stories (see the bibliography or Section A of
Chapter 2) are typical in this portrayal, with which I am familiar from my lifetime contact with
seafarers.
711
. Canadian Pacific Railroad, a shipping line, owning seagoing passenger liners as
well as railway stock.
officers on the Norwegian ship in which he served had been Norwegians, as I
had heard it said that712 Scots and Norwegians did not mix in the Engine
Room. Taylor did not agree with this opinion.(HMC 92-11, TTC p. 6)
Prejudices were demonstrated primarily in covert or unconscious ways,
such as PENs involving dialect or pidgin quotes. It became evident in the
course of the fieldwork that most men who told such narratives were unaware
of the bias thus demonstrated. One respondent from the Catering Department
enjoyed working with the Chinese crew, who usually did their own catering in
a divided kitchen. He said the Chinese “were crazy for pork and chicken, but
they‟ll eat anything”, and substantiated this by telling a PEN about an albatross
which fell exhausted on the deck of a vessel he was in and which he took into
his cabin to recuperate. It had a head the size of a cat‟s and could be stroked
like a kitten. The Chinese Bosun wanted to cook it. Reminded of the Ancient
Mariner‟s penalty for killing an albatross, he declared the Chinese did not
believe that. They would eat anything: dogs, cats. “If you stand still, they‟ll
paint you; if you didn‟t, they‟d eat you.” The ship‟s Captain had “adopted” a
British school for the ship, taken up a collection to buy souvenirs abroad, and
apportioned the students‟ letters to the crew to answer. The respondent‟s
student wrote, “I am 16. What do Chinese eat?” He answered: “If we don‟t
move quick enough they‟ll eat us.” They ate anything, but mostly rice, and
spent all their leisure time in port fishing, as it was a long turnaround then.
What they could not fit into the freezers, they would dry. At one time the ship
took cars one way and grain the other and had thousands of pigeons flocking
around. The Chinese would trap twenty-five at a time for food. They loved
pigeons. “...that meant they could keep that money.” They were given
fourteen dollars [yes, dollars] a day to buy food -- that way they could suit
themselves with food they liked -- and had their own cook. The company was
712
. This was from a Great Lakes Engineer of Norwegian birth, whose name I
remember only as Egil. I met him in the early 1980s in the State of Maine.
wise; the more food the crewmen caught, the more money they had for
luxuries like Chinese New Year, for which they really saved up and had lots of
firecrackers and hundred-year-old eggs. The informant loved hundred-yearold eggs! He liked anything. He was fortunate, in that he liked unusual foods,
as not everyone does. His wife does not. He calls her “the good shepherd”
because all she ever cooks is lamb.(HMC 92-4, TTC pp. 2-3)
Generally one never saw any trouble, although in the Bosworth the
situation was unusual. The Firemen were British Chinese; the Painter (an
unusual rank in a cargo boat) was Chinese; the Cooks were Chinese, and also
the Carpenter. The Deck crew and officers were all white. The Chinese
Firemen had a separate part of galley where they fixed Chinese food. They
also caught fish when they could, soaked them in brine, and hung them to dry.
The interviewee remembers many whole round fish hanging up, and their fins
and tails being painted buff by boisterous Deck crew, as the camouflage paint
scheme had by then changed from grey to buff and black. The Chinese
complained to the Captain, but none of the crew would admit to the act. It was
“artistic”, but they said it had been caused by the weather.(HMC 92-60, TTC p. 7)
One Radio Officer often sailed with Asian Deck crews from India or
Pakistan. Some people, he said, might call them “Lascars”, but he would call
them “Abduls”. He found Asians “apathetic people” from a “terribly dismal
background”. The first time he went to India, he wept at the living conditions.
“No wonder they came to countries such as ours, thinking that there was a,
y‟know, the streets were paved with gold. But, uh, tragic.”(HMC 92-63, TTC p.
3)
It was clear, however, that this man did not consider his views evidence of
ethnic or racial prejudice.
Another respondent said he had sailed mostly with fellow countrymen,
but some shipmates were coloured, Arabs, and there were a couple of Belgian
nationals from Antwerp, and a Greek. A scar on his hand was the result of
trying to stop the Greek from fighting with a knife, and his Arab shipmates had
been violent as well. One split another‟s face with a “round nose” (type of
shovel), so the respondent had to “trim” 713 two Stokers for the rest of the
voyage. He was standing a 6-10 watch at that time, since only two Trimmers
were carried.(HMC 92-49, TTC p. 3) Another Wireless Operator was on only one
vessel carrying a mixed national crew. This was in 1942 -- a British China
Coaster which had escaped from Shanghai to Calcutta after the Japanese
invasion. It was common practice to have mixed crews aboard such vessels
even before the war. There were always one or two White Russians aboard
Shanghai ships, as well as the odd Norwegian, Dane, Chinese, and/or Indian.
All got along very well, and what national rivalry existed was minimal.(HMC
92-15, TTC p. 1)
British seafarers, far more than North Americans, tended to have
regional rivalries and stereotypes. Dick Playfer sailed mainly with Liverpool
crowds,714 in which there were many of Irish background. He noted that
“people from the North End of Liverpool never got on with those from the
South End of town, and crowds from the Birkenhead side of the Mersey
thought themselves superior to both. There was a lot of that kind of
distinction. Crowds from different ports did not mix well; for example,
Liverpool crowds thought themselves better than Cardiff.” It was okay if it
was just one person on his own in the middle of a different crowd, but if two
crowds were aboard -- watch out! Fights would break out ashore when they
were “boozing”.(HMC 92-24, TTC p. 4) Tom Thornton agreed there were always
local divisions -- London against Liverpool, Sunderland or Newcastle against
713
. “Trimming” is using a metal “slice bar” to break “clinkers” and spread an
efficacious bed of coals in the firebox of a coal-fired ship.
714
. It was during the fieldwork interviews with Mr. Playfer that I first became
consciously aware that the words “crowd” and “crew” were interchangeable in British nautical
parlance, and regularly so used by my Merseyside respondents.
Swansea, and variations of the same. There was racism and bigotry as well,
but in general terms they got on pretty well, considering the conditions under
which they lived.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 3) Playfer did not know if shipping
companies deliberately hired area-specific crews, but it tended to happen,
perhaps mainly because they were recruited from the Pools. If it was a London
Pool, it would be a London crew, and so on -- it was generally circumstantial.
He does not think crowds from one end or the other of Liverpool were
deliberately chosen, but friends went looking for work together, so people
from a single area tended to sign on at the same time.(HMC 92-24, TTC pp. 4-5)
Before the war, most of the men Alan Peter sailed with were either
from the Northwest or the Midlands of England. There was the occasional
Londoner, but they were mainly Welsh, Irish, and Liverpudlians. Firemen
were mainly from Liverpool; Liverpool Firemen are the best in the world.
There were many foreign nationals; some ships, like the “colony boats” from
the Australia and New Zealand runs had Estonians, and Furness Withy‟s Black
Sea run signed on in Antwerp and carried Danish, Dutch, Lithuanians, all
types of Europeans. They all got along well -- no problems. There was the
occasional racial slur, but it was never serious.(HMC 92-35, TTC p. 3)
There were quite a few foreign nationals aboard the vessels in which
Capt. Laurie James sailed -- mostly people who were “stateless” in a sense.
Two Spaniards came aboard in the islands, fell asleep, and the ship sailed.
When the vessel returned north, these men were refused re-entry, so stayed
with the ship for some time, lived aboard in Liverpool, and worked from the
ship. “They were very, very good, those two boys. They were older, not really
young chaps at all.” It was a long time before the Spanish Government could
be persuaded to accept them again, though Capt. James was unsure why.
Foreign nationals posed neither language problems nor ethnic problems to any
degree. No doubt problems occurred in some ships, but Capt. James
experienced none.(HMC 92-68, TTC p. 2)
Only two data were given which directly concerned religious
backgrounds and both were from British wireless operators and about Jews:
One interviewee sailed with a young German Jew, who had
escaped from Germany as a Deck Boy in a Dutch ship just after
Hitler came to power in 1934. By 1937 he had got to Palestine,
then a British mandate, and been given a British passport as a
German refugee. Some begrudged it him, but not the
respondent. The Jewish lad continued at sea in Palestinian
ships until 1942, then went South, hoping to reach South Africa
or India to sit for a British officer‟s ticket. He joined the
respondent‟s ship in Suez and signed off in Durban to sit his
exams. The respondent saw him several months later, after he
had become a Second Mate. “There was a man you respected,
‟cause he‟d made the effort and would do well, as he deserved
it.” The respondent had helped him with his English.(HMC 9216, TTC p. 3)
The other informant said, in reference to a problem of inaccuracy in
receiving orders by wireless, that in one ship, the Chief Radio Officer had not
liked the Third RO, who was Jewish, but “couldn‟t say a word wrong about
me”.(HMC 92-63, TTC p. 1) He did not give any indication, however, that he
himself had felt any prejudice toward this shipmate or that the Chief‟s dislike
had been based on the man‟s religious or ethnic background. Several of the
North American sample were themselves Jewish and close to a third of the
total sample mentioned having had Roman Catholic upbringing. Two
respondents had been raised in devout Salvation Army backgrounds and
another proudly declared himself a born-again Christian. Other than this
information and the few casual asides about such things as caste consciousness
amongst Indian shipmates or Catholics crossing themselves before battle,
religion appeared to be of no consequence at all as a factor of social bias
among these men.
As regards foreign-flag vessels, Capt. George Jahn, official Master of
the restored Liberty ship, Jeremiah O‟Brien, which took part in the D-Day
landing fifty-year commemorative events, said most ships in convoy were
either American or British, and all were bound for different destinations, so
there was not much interaction. It was mostly United States-flag cargo vessels
on the run to the Soviet Union, but the Royal Navy was in charge. Escort
vessels were both British and American across the Atlantic, mostly British to
Murmansk, but there was once an American cruiser to be turned over to the
Soviets.(HMC 89-5, TTC p. 2) Two men interviewed jointly on the same day,
however, recalled no convoy that comprised only U.S. vessels, and said all
flags were represented.(HMC 89-5, TTC p. 6) The next interviewee added that
not all ships in Pacific convoys were American either, as there were some
British ones as well.(HMC 89-6, TTC p. 1)
Most North American informants who had shipped before the mast,
recalled having sailed in at least one foreign-flag vessel. In the case of
American respondents, these ships were usually of Panamanian, Honduran, or
Scandinavian registry and often had international crews as well. Canadians
often shipped aboard American- and British-flag vessels, and
Newfoundlanders (technically considered British at the time) tended to favour
Canadian and American registries, but such tendencies were not unalterable.
One Newfoundland informant sailed on a few Panamanian vessels, since he
had been deported from Canada and was afraid if he went through the regular
channels he would be caught, jailed, and re-deported.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 4) A
Canadian interviewee had sailed under Canadian, British, Norwegian, and
Panamanian flags with mixed crews and said all relations were good and there
was never trouble amongst the crew on any ship on which he served, but
possibly the best of the lot had a supposedly “all-Canadian” crew.(HMC 91-11,
TTC p. 1)
British respondents had sailed on Scandinavian, Dutch, and Greek
vessels, as well as the occasional Canadian or American ship.
An English interviewee said the closest he came to sailing on a foreignflag ship was one registered in Belfast. When asked about shipping with
foreign nationals, he referred to those from the Republic of Ireland, saying, “I
found them very good. They believed in fairies at the bottom of the garden,
y‟know, but they‟re damn good sailors.” Other foreign nationals he recalled
were Indians and Pakistanis. These Lascars were very good as crews, but very
much exploited by the English in those days, despite the fact that they were
hard-working, good seamen.(HMC 92-51, TTC pp. 4 and 6) Other informants had
never sailed on foreign-flag ships. One American said this was because it was
strictly against union rules.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 6) Several, however, on both
sides of the Atlantic, actually carried discharge books from Scandinavian
unions.715 Herbert Taylor, a Glaswegian now resident in London, carried a
Norwegian as well as a British paybook throughout his seafaring career, and
believed it was easy to sail on foreign-flag ships during the war, if they were
short-handed, as “time is money and they needed a quick turnaround”.(HMC 9211, TTC p. 3)
One Britisher who never sailed foreign-flag had nonetheless shipped
with foreign nationals. These were mostly Scandinavians who spoke English,
had been around, and fit into crew pretty well. “Oh, hell, aye, yes!” There
was no nationalist bigotry in that sense.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 3) Another who
sailed only on British vessels said all his wartime shipmates were British
subjects, but they came from all over the Commonwealth -- Australia, New
Zealand, and South Africa, as well as Great Britain. After the war there was
“the odd Pole” and such like. His company had some vessels in which all the
ratings were Indian, and one vessel had a few from Aden, but there was not a
large ratio of foreigners amongst the crews, although racial diversity was
common. They carried blacks, Arabs, Chinese, but all were born in Liverpool,
715
. Jim Cunningham, HMC 90-10; Hank Adams, HMC 90-14/90-15; Herbert
Taylor, HMC 92-11/92-12.
Cardiff, or elsewhere in the United Kingdom. Asked about
“checkerboarding”, he surprisingly said they had some whites and some blacks
in each Department,716 but there was no more racial tension aboard than one
would find elsewhere. Problems were due to individual personality conflicts,
as the occasional “awkward one” was likely to appear in any given crew.(HMC
92-67, TTC p. 2)
Both of the M.R.A. Gunners interviewed during the fieldwork were
familiar with foreign-flag ships. Fred Lavis sailed with many North American
ships and seamen, especially on the Malta run and Russian convoys.(HMC 9213, TTC p. 2)
Frank Brown spent most of his sea time on British-flag ships, but
made one trip to New York aboard a Norwegian vessel. This Kong Haakon
II717 was a brand-new ship, built on the Clyde, the first Norwegian ship built
during the war, and this was her maiden voyage. Brown was told that when
she was launched she had collided with another vessel and had to be repaired,
but he did not know if the story is factual or accurate, and he attached no luck
beliefs to it in any case. The Crown Prince of Norway and the government in
exile were in New York at the time and were entertained aboard when the
convoy arrived. Brown‟s first voyage as a Gunner was aboard a Polish
ship.(HMC 92-14, TTC pp. 1 and 5) On the Norwegian ship there were two
sixteen-year-old Scottish Cabin Boys and two English Gunners, but the rest of
the crew was Norwegian. Things started off well, but the Chief Officer beat
one of the Cabin Boys and Brown reported it to the Captain. The Boy was
sixteen and Brown about nineteen at the time. Later, in New York, a man
entered a bar where Brown was, and collapsed. The barman asked if Brown
knew him and Brown at first said no, but then realised it was this same Chief
Officer. After Brown had carried him back to the ship, his behaviour became
716
. I have stressed this, as it was the only British testimony to this effect.
. My Norwegian colleague, Espen Ore, suggests this would probably have been
King Haakon VII (the reigning king during World War II) rather than Haakon II.
717
“more civilised”. It was not made clear if this Mate‟s reprehensible behaviour
toward the Scottish Boy was ethnically directed or simply a display of personal
indiscipline. There were Nazis amongst the Engineers on that ship, and Jews
among the crew, as well. In addition to the two English M.R.A. men there
were Norwegian gunners aboard who were very pleasant. One invited Brown
to come and visit his farm in Norway someday and spoke of his beautiful
white fowls. This was all done without a common language. By the end of
the trip, Brown could converse basically with him. Whenever Brown went on
watch with him, this man would say “Mørk natt”, meaning “dark
night”.718(HMC 92-14, TTC pp. 1 and 5)
Several interviewees said they had sailed on at least one ship where
“practically everybody was from a different country”. “Anybody who could
walk and was warm to the touch could ship out.” One Norwegian Captain
“couldn‟t see this far”719 and was in his seventies. Some others aboard were
“old”, but probably not as old as they seemed to the youthful informants, then
in their teens. They have sailed with shipmates as young as fifteen, as well as
a lot of ex-convicts and parolees. The U.S. War Shipping Administration was
desperately short-handed, particularly in 1944.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 2)
In such a social environment, varied in many ways, but restricted in
others, how did the seafarer perceive himself, and how did members of the
shoreside community view him? These questions will be addressed in the
following chapter.
718
. Ore also tells me that the man may alternatively have said, “Mørkt i natt” or “(It
is) dark tonight,” which would sound much the same in the Eastern Norwegian pronunciation.
719.
He indicated a very short distance, intending to signify that the man was
severely visually impaired.
CHAPTER 6
PERCEPTIONS AND ATTITUDES OF AND ABOUT
SEAFARERS
In addition to interpersonal relationships, individual attitudes and
perceptions of the seafarer must also be considered, both how he perceived
himself and his shipmates, and how they in turn, as a group, were perceived
and treated (or thought they were perceived and treated) by those ashore, either
at home or in foreign ports. Such perceptions and treatment have been
seriously considered, for the purposes of this study, only in North America (the
United States, Canada, and Newfoundland) and in the United Kingdom of
Great Britain and Northern Ireland, as a more extensive investigation would
have been impossible given temporal, geographical, and financial limitations.
A few passing comments regarding Africa, Australasia, and Continental
Europe have been noted, as well as a few remarks about Allied seafarers‟
perception of their nautical enemy.
In this chapter, some note will be taken of the sociological concept of
the seafarer as part of a “deviant” culture, an “outsider”, “odd man out” or
member of a “marginal”720 occupation. Howard Becker, in Outsiders, quotes
Everett Hughes: “„Wherever some group of people have a bit of common life
with a modicum of isolation from other people, a common corner in society,
common problems and perhaps a couple of common enemies, there culture
grows.‟”721 The applicability of this concept to the seafarer can scarcely be
720
. “A seaman‟s life is a lonely one. In a world where alienation and anomie are
becoming commonplace words, the seaman‟s life has always been one of loneliness and
alienation.”(Sherar, xi).
721
. Howard S. Becker, Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance, (New York:
The Free Press/London: Collier-Macmillan Ltd., 1963), 80 [ft. p. 81 -- Everett Cherrington
Hughes, Students‟ Culture and Perspectives: Lectures on Medical and General Education
(Lawrence, Kansas: University of Kansas Law School, 1961), pp. 28-29.]
disputed. Becker further interprets “deviance” in this context as a term
applicable to types of behaviour rather than to types of people and most simply
characterises it as failure to conform to the rules of the dominant society.722
For my purposes I shall adopt this definition, and nothing beyond it should be
implied by my use of the term. The implied “dominant society” in this case is,
of course, the shoreside community.
Seafarers, like anyone else, have perceptions of themselves, both as
individuals and as part of a group. Non-seafarers, particularly those with no
maritime connections, have their own perceptions and stereotypes of mariners.
With respect to such attitudes, William Hugh Jansen has described what he
calls the Esoteric-Exoteric factor as follows:723
The esoteric applies to what one group thinks of itself and what
it supposes others think of it. The exoteric is what one group
thinks of another and what it thinks of that other group.724
The two sections of this chapter reflect upon these concerns. In the
first, the focus will be upon the esoteric view, or how the seafarer viewed (and
often still views) himself and his shipmates, while the second section will
concentrate upon landsmen‟s attitudes and behaviour toward mariners and
how they differ and have differed from one place to another, especially during
the Second World War. The infrequent narratives from the fieldwork which
dealt with stowaways(HMC 92-37, TTC pp. 1-2) have been omitted as irrelevant to
this study, except for a few scattered references. People did stow away, but
such incidents occurred too sporadically to merit pointed attention in a work
such as this.725
722
. Becker (1963), 20, 1 and 7-8.
. Although Jansen‟s article deals with this factor only as it relates to the study of
folklore proper, his concept is set forth in such a way that it is clearly applicable to other
related areas of study, especially to one as closely linked with folklore as is ethnography.
724
. Jansen, “The Esoteric-Exoteric Factor,” 46.
725
. Tom Killips, however, wrote me late in 1992, after the fieldwork was long over,
to tell of a young stowaway who, when discovered freezing cold and hungry in a lifeboat just
before the convoy left from Milford Haven, after loading in Swansea, was not frightened of
being discovered, but of what his mother would do to him when he was returned to Liverpool.
723
One sensitive and perceptive lifetime seafarer remarked that long
voyages made men more and more easily irritable, until their tempers could be
triggered by “any little thing”. The closeness of the quarters and the limited
number of people aboard with whom interaction was permissible created an
almost prison-like atmosphere726 in which personal habits could sometimes
become intolerable annoyances, and he listed methods for making associations
easier, such as granting a five-minute leeway on the relief of watches, one area
which proved a major bone of contention. It was his allegation that there are
good crews and bad crews and, if one is lucky, one will get the good
ones.(HMC 90-37, TTC p. 3) Another interviewee noted that disagreements
aboard the vessels in which he served were often decided by “hands on a
stick”727 in the manner in which baseball teams were chosen during his school
days.(HMC 90-13, TTC pp. 3) All three respondents in one group interview
declared that all group relationships aboard, those between military and
merchant seafarers, between licensed and unlicensed personnel, and between
Departments, were close-knit. They had to work well together. There were
about thirty in an average merchant crew and usually twelve to fifteen Armed
Guard personnel on U.S. vessels. If fifty people spend that much time
together, they have to get along. No one was ever seen to act “superior”.(HMC
90-39, TTC pp. 1-2)
“Tex” English characterised shipboard life as “rather like a monastery”.
There may have been cursing and talk about women on the fantail728 after
supper, but there was really very little discussion of sexual exploits, probably
not as much as might be found ashore. Not much thought was given to sex at
sea, where it was unavailable, but when nearing shore, one‟s “genes start
726
. “„The ship is like ... a prison without bars.‟” (Sherar, 9).
. Using a baseball bat or other stick, one person would close his hand around the
base of it, the next would grasp it just above, and so on to the top. The person who could not
find enough remaining space to actually grip was either “in” or “out” depending on the group‟s
consensus. Similarly haphazard methods of decision would be flipping a coin or spinning a
cricket bat.
728
. An area at the stern of the ship.
727
perking up”. Really, especially amongst the old-timers, they tended to be very
quiet, perhaps like long-term convicts. This of course provides an analogue to
the comment above about the “prison-like” atmosphere.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 5)
Yet another interviewee maintained that he had “always been treated
real good on board ship, I thought.”(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 3) After losing his first
ship, however, this same respondent discovered he could only “get close to”
one of his shipmates, a Danish expatriate, but they became virtually
inseparable, and much of his interview time was given to stories of their joint
escapades ashore. Many others, he said, could not take the emotional stress at
all; some jumped overboard and committed suicide, others “went nuts” and
had to be put in chains or otherwise restrained. He did drink a lot, though, and
the “me and Jensen” tales usually involved “boozing”.(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 2)
Such time-honoured stereotypes of “sailormen” were recognised by
seafarers as part of their perception of self and also as a factor influencing
landsmen‟s attitudes toward them. It is in this chapter that sociological studies
of “outsiders” and “deviance”729 are most apposite.
729
. Lane, Grey Dawn Breaking and Merchant Seamen‟s War, as well as Becker and
Sherar.
A.
ATTITUDES, PERCEPTIONS, AND BIASES OF SEAMEN ASEA
AND ASHORE
Seafarers have long been perceived as eccentric and recognisably
unique within society. “The ... seaman ... is the supreme, and possibly the last
of the individualists.”730 “In the street and in the pub the seaman‟s friends
greet him with that strange mixture of interest and envy that so often marks the
landsman‟s approach to anyone connected with the sea and ships.”731
Because of the enforced isolation of this “marginal” occupation,732
many sociologists allege that the individual seafarer must suffer, becoming
more and more of an “oddball”, “outsider” or “deviant”.733 One informant,
during the fieldwork for this study, agreed seafarers are “a race apart, really. ...
And every one is an individual....”(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 5) The term “deviant” as
used here, reflects only the marginality of the occupation and some eccentricity
on the part of the individual, rather than the strongly negative connotations
often attributed to the word.734 An essay by a seaman credits his fellows with:
“a breadth of mind that comes only with meeting and mingling with people of
many races, understanding to the best of your ability their ways of life and
viewpoints; and, above all, learning to tolerate that which you cannot agree
with nor understand.”735
730
. Healey, 4.
. Hope, The Seaman‟s World, 88.
732
. Enforced long term isolation from ordinary shoreside society defines the
occupation as “marginal”.
733
. Sherar, 15 ff. characterises the seaman as “marginal”. Becker (1963), pp. 1-8
offers a sociological interpretation of the words “outsiders” and “deviance”, and, in a footnote
on p. 20, says the words refer to not to types of people (personalities), but to types of
behaviour (acts). “The same person‟s behavior[sic] can ... be conforming in some activities,
deviant in others.”
734
. “Deviance”, as used here, infers only nonconformity with conventional
standards of the dominant society, not moral turpitude. In a racially biased community, for
example, friendship with a person of different ethnicity might be considered “deviant”
behaviour.
735
. Hope, The Seaman‟s World, 92. This attitude also explains, to some degree, the
lack of stigma attached to homosexual behaviour.
731
Despite the “downside” to the universal perception of seafarers, the
vast majority do not appear in any way unusual. Of the large sampling
interviewed during the fieldwork, only about ten percent could be described as
eccentrics and more than half that group were apparently “performers”,736
consciously attempting to impress any audience. The others, both in North
America and Britain, fell into two fundamental groups based on socioeconomic class: the working-class man and the middle-class man. Both basic
groups were well-dressed, well-spoken, and respectable in every way; the
majority were married or widowed, and their homes were a pleasure to visit.
The only noticeable difference was that one group was a bit more financially
“comfortable” than the other. No respondents or their families could have
been described as in any way ungracious; each offered hospitality of some sort,
from coffee or tea to shared meals and more, in addition to the recorded data,
and none appeared in any way exceptional.
Modern merchant seafarers are seldom recognisable to a casual
observer on the streets of even the most active seaport town.737 During the
Second World War their visibility consisted solely of being apparently healthy,
capable men who were not in the uniform of one of the Armed Services. Mary
Babcock Palmer wrote descriptively of those she had met at the time:
“Seamen are unique,” said one ... man in an impeccable
gray gabardine suit. To the reader of pulp stories about rowdy
sailors on the waterfront, he ... would seem unique. They
would never spot this groomed, handsome fellow as a sailor.
They would be more likely to take him for a lawyer. The
reason for the popular conception of a sailor, the seamen say, is
that the public recognizes the one or two men in every crew
who race off the ship in their dungarees and head for the nearest
waterfront bar. But the majority who clean up, change into
regular business suits and go uptown for the evening, simply
aren‟t recognized.
[Another] ...got into the Merchant Marine almost by
mistake. He had been a runner in a bank, a sales statistician
736
. See below or the glossary in Chapter Eight for a definition of this term.
. “Ashore ... a member of the mercantile marine in most respects is not very
different from the ordinary run of men.” (Healey, 3).
737
and a broker‟s clerk on the floor of the San Francisco Exchange
when the depression hit ... and he couldn‟t find work ashore; so
he went across the Bay to talk it over with some shipping men
he knew, and signed on as an ordinary seaman. After that he
sailed from the East Coast where trade was better than on the
Pacific. At first completely enthralled by his adventures, he
tired of the sea after about five years, went ashore to marry and
take another clerk‟s job. But when the war came and the union
sent out calls for old hands to return he reported back
immediately to help out.
Another in the group ... who looked rather like a farmer in
his Sunday clothes, said he‟d gone to sea because his father and
his grandfather had gone before him. Another ... had lost a
factory job and joined up in the depression. Others trying to
explain why the lonely seaman‟s life appealed to them could
only say, “You‟ve got a lot of freedom that you don‟t get in
other jobs. On the boat you work -- but never too hard. When
you are rushed there‟s always a mate to give you a hand in a
pinch. You work eight hours nowadays for pretty good pay,
then in your free time there‟s always the gang on board, the
radio, poker and the marine libraries. It may get pretty boring
on a long trip, but in peacetime they generally break the voyage
so that you‟re not at sea much more than eight days. Then
you‟re on your own on shore leave.”738
Such evidences of respectability notwithstanding, American informants
for this study said there was “a lot of truth in the awful stories”. “Seamen
were a rough lot to begin with; now they are more sophisticated.” In the early
days they were rougher, few married men went to sea, and all lived from day
to day, playing pranks, working like dogs, and getting little out of it.(HMC 9065, TTC p. 6)
The USMS739 training establishments, especially in the case of
Messmen, only served to sort out the misfits. “You learned the sharp end from
the blunt end and that was it.” Anything worthwhile actually learned was
learned aboard ship.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 7)
A Newfoundlander said “bandits” would be the most complimentary
term for one crew with whom he sailed. They were collected from jails; some
had been “flung out” of the Services; he himself had been deported from
Canada for sailing under an assumed name. They were the dregs: jailbirds,
738
. Palmer, 131-133. [cf. also in Sections 5-A and 6-B the fact that merchant
seamen are not easily recognisable because they have no uniforms.]
739
. United States Maritime Service.
murderers, maniacs, and “violent no-goodniks”.
Everyone was “wanted” by
at least one or two countries, “but they were a pretty nice crowd for all that”.
He said he had to fight a lot; people hated him; he was “saucy” [pugnacious]
and “fought like a dog”; he had to be able to fight. He also “drank a lot of rum
and gained a lot of guts”, but he got along pretty well with people anyway, as
he “was not a man it was easy to dislike”.(HMC 91-10, TTC pp. 3-4)
A man from Northern Ireland said some men joined the Merchant
Navy to dodge prison sentences, and there were “hoboes from Liverpool. ...
You never knew who you were shipping with.” There were some “hooks and
crooks”. “Liverpool, especially was „drastic‟.” There was never any major
contention, but a few “scraps” -- he also used the word “fisticuffs” -- now and
then.(HMC 91-2, TTC p. 1)
One of Capt. H.G. Skelly‟s ships took men out of jail to make up a
crew, as they could not get enough from the Pool. Six Firemen from this
group were later arrested by the Military Police, who proved they were not
such “hard cases” after all. One said, “Hey, I‟m not in the Army!” “No, but
you‟ll be in worse than that, Mate.” And the policeman clouted him, knocked
him onto the deck and commanded the six of them to “Fall in!” “Can we get
our clothes?” “Get your clothes, get your clothes!” And they were marched
off and replaced with six Australians who had been in a Vichy French prison.
These latter did not sign on, just came aboard and acted as Firemen, and the
ship “[gave] them a hand to get home”. There were often crew problems, as
there were quite often “bad eggs” who made trouble in foreign ports and tried
to get themselves locked up in order to get off the ship. “A lot of bad eggs got
into the Merchant Service in the latter part of the war -- Army dodgers and
cunning heads and crooks.”(HMC 92-39, TTC p. 2)
Another British Deck officer interviewed said his ships‟ crews had
included “scallywags” from places like Liverpool and Glasgow. “And I think
during the war a lot of people came to sea who thought they‟d get out of
something worse. ... And towards the end of the war we seemed to get more
trouble with crews. I think both sides were probably getting a bit fed up with
life by that time. Bits of friction used to arise.”(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 5) Tom
Thornton agreed “The seaman was the lowest of the low.” This may have
been because during the Depression they were not treated like human beings at
all, even by the shipping companies -- “especially by the shipping
companies”.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 3)
Even during and after the war, those in authority tended to overlook the
Merchant Service in favour of the Armed Forces and often failed to recognise
the former‟s justifiable desires and to give credit where it was due.740 One
example of this oversight occurred as a result of the loss of the tug, Poolgarth,
just off Canada Dock in Liverpool Harbour. “Shack” Shackleton‟s brother
was lost on the Poolgarth, and on one occasion when Shackleton‟s own vessel
was mined, the rescue vessel brought the survivors in past the wreck of his
brother's tug. They were taken to the Sailors‟ Home, where there was a roll
call and the local men were then sent home. As Shackleton‟s mother was
expecting his arrival from Glasgow, she was not bothered when he arrived
home, until he told her “We‟ve been mined!” The only body recovered from
the wreck of the Poolgarth, was “Shack”‟s brother‟s, so his name does not
appear on the memorial monument at Tower Bridge in London, although the
vessel and the rest of the crew are listed. Since the body was recovered, he
was not considered “lost at sea”. This disturbs Shackleton, who feels the
authorities were too inflexible in adhering to the wording, rather than the
intent, and he feels this would never have happened to a Royal Navy sailor.
740
. For a more detailed exegesis of this situation, see Section B. of this Chapter.
His own name and that of his uncle appear on other rolls and memorials. (HMC
92-43, TTC p. 3)
Despite the seaman‟s status and repute as “odd man out”, however,
many of the interviewees declared their enjoyment of life at sea was the direct
result of the fellowship and camaraderie engendered by living in fairly close
quarters with a limited number of people and, as has been illustrated in the
previous chapter, the seafarer tended to be more broad-minded and tolerant
than his landsman counterpart.
“They‟re unique ... because they‟ve been around so much
and through so much that they‟ve built up a great feeling of
camaraderie. ... You don‟t forget a guy you‟ve bunked with.”741
A sizeable segment of those interviewed during the fieldwork specified
“chewing the fat” or “chewing the rag” as their favourite shipboard pastime,742
re-emphasising the importance of talk as a bonding mechanism to make life
more bearable in a situation necessarily fraught with anxiety at the best of
times and even moreso during wartime.743 The only real expression of the
enforced detachment of the individual was a frequently-uttered complaint that
it was difficult for merchant seafarers of this period to locate old shipmates
once they had become separated:
“But like everything else, seamen you see, the war years
afterwards as well, were like ships passing in the night. It‟s a
million to one chance of meeting, y‟know, the same people
again. Different ships, different places and all that, when they
dock and that.” This is the saddest aspect of the Merchant
Service -- unless you stay in the same ship, with a company like
Cunard,744 for example. Ratings who sailed in cargo boats,
tramps, and tankers were reassigned after each voyage and did
not stay with the company.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 8)
741
. Palmer, 132.
. See Chapter Seven under “Recreational Pursuits”, where conversation is given
as one of the most popular pastimes.
743
. Green, 74.
744
. Liner galley staff were often encouraged to stay with a ship.
742
If the seafarer‟s role in a marginal occupation includes no terminal
ceremony to mark his movement back into ordinary society then, superficially
at least, his “deviance” is irreversible:
“And as a result, the deviant often returns home with no proper
license[sic] to resume a normal life in the community. ... It
should not be surprising, then, that the members of the
community seem reluctant to accept the returning deviant on an
entirely equal footing. In a very real sense, they do not know
who he is.”745
And nor, often, does he himself. Invisible in “civilian” clothes, in most
cases never having owned or worn a uniform, and with few, if any, agencies,
such as veterans‟ associations, to succour and support him in his quest for
former shipmates, the merchant marine rating who has left the sea might well
be termed the forgotten man. Even military sailors note that it is more difficult
for them to locate old friends than for land-based Armed Forces personnel, so
how much more difficult it must be for the merchant seaman. Joseph Bennett,
a Royal Navy Stoker, said in the Army one stayed with the unit one joined
“practically forever”, and it was the same in the RAF, but in the Navy one
changed ships as an individual, not as a group member. Giving details from
his own personal experience, he concluded, “You were always on your own in
the Navy.”(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 7) It was even more troublesome for a merchant
seafarer trying locate former shipmates. Merchant crews were relatively small
and more transient as well, ratings changing ships as the Pool or the union hall
assigned them, rather than staying with the same vessel for long periods.(HMC
90-67, TTC p. 6)
We have already noted that the “deviant”‟s return to ordinary
community life is often difficult, with nothing to cancel out stigmas imagined
by the general community, including himself, to have arisen from his links
with a marginal occupation. One interviewee, who joined the Merseyside
745
. Becker (1964), 16-17.
police force on leaving the sea, found police work in the dock areas somewhat
eased his transition back into the shoreside community, although the stress was
not entirely alleviated:
“It‟s funny how they all come back but, as I say, I still
dream sometimes about bein‟ back at sea. I think I‟m back at
sea and it doesn‟ seem forty years ago at all and it‟s more than
forty years. And what‟s helped a bit, I think, is ... I‟ve spent a
total of ten years in the Force, because obviously I was down
the docks every day and prior to that I would have periods of
six months or something. It‟s kept in t[ouch?] and if I ... dealt
with a fatal accident or drowning or something like, a shipboard
accident, I knew exactly all about it. I knew exactly the terms
and then I could speak, I could talk to the crowd746 and the Old
Man and the Mate on their terms. And, y‟know, I understood
what was goin‟ on. ... It helped me enormously....”(HMC 92-61,
TTC p. 3)
Well over a third of the total fieldwork sample appeared conscious of
the occupation‟s reputation for marginality, but only a minimal number would
have been described as “outsiders” by any but the most narrow-minded of
observers. It was common for all, however, to rationalise behaviour such as
alcohol abuse, and while some discussed drunkenness, fighting, smuggling or
black-marketeering with a sort of roguish pride, others maintained they were
not among the followers of such pursuits: “a lot of them did, but I did not”. In
addition, during the course of the fieldwork, I was made aware of the term
“performer”. A “performer” is one who, intentionally or otherwise, upholds
the mariner‟s notoriety for womanising, “boozing”, and generally treading a
thin line just outside the limits of social and legal acceptability. Often
“performing” manifests itself in the practice, for which seafarers are
traditionally notorious, of embroidering accounts of their experiences, telling
“sea stories”,747 or “yarning”. A few informants themselves fit the paradigm of
the “performer” and I have reason to suspect that a fair share of the testimony
of this small minority consisted more of accounts created or at least
746
. British interviewees often used the term “crowd” as a synonym for “crew”.
. According to the tradition which was verbalised by any number of my
informants(i.e., HMC 90-49, TTC p. 3), a “fairy tale” begins: “Once upon a time....” and a “sea
story” begins: “Now this ain‟t no bullshit....”
747
embroidered for my benefit than of authentic PENs as genuine as fifty years‟
memory could make them. One respondent, however, told a Russian convoy
tale laced with transparent inconsistencies which appeared to be totally
unintentional and simply a matter of being a good story-teller with an
inaccurate memory,(HMC 91-3, TTC p. 3) while another, co-interviewed with
him, wove into his narrative such pithy statements as “I did it the hard way -- I
joined the Navy as an Admiral and worked my way down to AB,” but was
more accurate in his factual data.(HMC 91-3, TTC p. 1)
It is notable that, despite the reputation for yarning and a certain
amount of pride shown in an ability to dupe landsmen, most of those I
interviewed expressed nothing but contempt when others‟ reports of their own
sea service showed inconsistencies.748 “Fish” Ramsey heard men in New York
bars lying about the number of North Russian convoys in which they had
sailed, but he can show documentation for his own trips,(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 1)
while R.J. Warren was accused of stretching the truth because his audience
thought him too young to have been at sea during the war and got “...the shock
of their life when I [told] ‟em that you could be at sea when you were ten,
fifteen, durin‟ the war.”(HMC 92-50, TTC p. 10 ) Artie Lee, after explaining that
all British seafarers involved in D-Day had identity cards marked “V” for
“Volunteer”, scornfully said many claim to have gone to sea during the war,
when they could not have done, as they did not even know what the “V”
represented. A lot of men talk big in pubs, and say they have done things they
did not do. It can be verified. ... Not a British merchant seaman was made to
go to D-Day, and that's what the „V‟ stands for.”(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 2)749 “Fish”
Ramsey‟s complaint was that between 1936 and 1974 he “must have met
748
. Those who had specific points to make about wartime conditions at sea usually
showed, or even gave me documentation. At the least they gave me references to printed
sources.
749
. An AB was paid £20 a month, about £5 a week, although he was not given the
money until he signed off. Ten pounds of the monthly stipend was danger money, and there
was an extra thirty bob for the [D-Day] invasion, so many “said „Let‟s go!‟ not knowing what
would happen. It was just another trip. So what?”(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 2)
2,000 people who said they sailed with Joe Curran”.750 He said this was
exaggeration and required documentation, as some were too young to have
even been born at the time Curran was sailing. “That‟s sea stories!”(HMC 9049, TTC p. 3)
Unlike these men, Frank Power boldly, almost proudly, told me he had
actually attempted to mislead people, not only ashore, but aboard ship. These
efforts were often unsuccessful, however, as his inadequacies were made
manifest by the forged documents he carried, which indicated proficiency in
areas where he was, in fact, incompetent. Whenever he was assigned to a ship
bound for the British Isles, it was diverted before reaching its destination, but
in the past he had refused to admit this, and made up yarns of the places he had
visited in London to disguise the fact that he had never been there.(HMC 91-10,
TTC pp. 2 and 5)
Unlike him, “Tex” English never told tall stories even to those
ashore, although he did exaggerate a little about times when “the subs were so
thick you could walk across ‟em from one ship to another”. Nonetheless there
were “a couple of real smoothies” aboard, who had “classy” shoregoing suits
and tried to “snow” the girls. Returning aboard they bragged of the “stories
they had put over”, but “Tex” never had time for that -- he would just go
ashore and have some drinks.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 8)751 No British respondents
told of having done any boasting at all. Perhaps it was less easily
accomplished in long-established seaports which had dealt with the “rambling
sailormen” for countless generations.
Some shoreside bragging by seamen was intended to impress women.
This included trying to convince potential dates that USMS stood for Under
Sea Maintenance Service,(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 7) or that the seaman‟s
750
. Curran was the founder and wartime leader of the National Maritime Union. in
the United States, but he was no longer regularly shipping out at the time of the war.
751
. With respect to “snowing” people, some typical stories will be found in Chapter
Seven under the rubric of “Fools‟ Errands”.
identification card headed “Captain of the Port of (Baltimore, New York,
etc.)” proved the bearer whose photograph was on the card to be the Port
Captain.752 When loading ballast in Barry, Wales, Dick Connelly and a
shipmate went ashore for a beer in a dockside pub. The barmaid asked which
ship they were on and they pointed out the window, indicating their vessel.
“Oh,” says she, “What do you do aboard her?” “We‟re ABs.” “I‟m glad to
hear that, because I thought there were only Third Mates aboard.” “For
heaven‟s sake, why?” “See that table over there? (indicating a table
surrounded by the boys‟ shipmates) All five of those fellows told me they
were the Third Mate.”(HMC 90-29. TTC p. 3)
Not all such misleading pretension was aimed to impress the girls,
however. An Engine Cadet and a Deck Cadet went ashore together in their
Midshipmen‟s uniforms, and were accosted in a bar by a man, obviously
“scuppered”753 who slurred, “Shay, I can shee you‟re in uniform, but I don‟t
reckonnize what branch of the Shervish y‟re with.” The informant, with a
wink to his mate, said, “Well this is all very hush-hush and you must keep it
under your hat. We are Americans, but we‟re attached to the Norwegian
Undersea Air Force.” After a moment‟s puzzled thought, the inebriate
brightened, saying, “I‟ve heard of them guys -- they‟re doin‟ a great job!
Lemme buy you two a drink!”754 This sort of relatively innocent and playful
braggadocio755 was apparently common to young American seafarers,
especially abroad, but no more weighty deceptions were mentioned by any
interviewees.
752
. One respondent‟s U.S. Coast Guard pass identifying seafarers for boarding
vessels said: “Captain of the Port of New York, James B. North III, seaman, NMU.” His
friend, Mason, had a similar pass from Baltimore. They used these to impress girls in foreign
ports. They were seldom believed, but it was fun.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 1)
753
. Scuppered is a nauticalism for drunk. See the Glossary.
754
. Robert Hiller, communicated in private conversation, outside the formal
interview situation, December 1989.
755
. Perhaps this may be a reaction of neophyte seamen to rituals of induction such
as fools‟ errands and Line-Crossing ceremonies in which they themselves are the victims. See
Chapter Seven.
Seafarers also have a long-standing reputation for profanity, but neither
my personal nor my professional experience would substantiate this, despite
such similes as “swearing like a Portuguese sailor”.756 Capt. Derek Belk‟s wife
quite agreed with me, saying “bad language” would never be used in front of a
woman by a seaman.(HMC 92-53, TTC p. 2) Mr. and Mrs. Harry Kilmon,
however, disagreed. Mrs. Kilmon noted her husband‟s grammatical lapses
after his round-the-world voyages and, although she admitted it was a very
narrow viewpoint, said, “The typical merchant seaman wasn‟t an educated
man.” She regarded other merchant seamen‟s wives as “vulgar and foulmouthed” and felt there was “a general lack of respect for women” in the
merchant marine. In this, she never considered her husband a typical merchant
seaman. “The woman up the street” sailed as a ship‟s Cook and the only
female aboard; she could match any man and is a fascinating person; Mrs.
Kilmon enjoys her company, except for her language. Harry himself said in
the middle of the ocean on a ship, all men, especially during wartime, curse a
lot, but it still shocks both Kilmons when women talk like that.(HMC 90-72, TTC
p. 3)
Appointment to a command was usually permanent, and Masters were
individuals. The Master of the King Lud was known on the coast of Australia
as one of the foulest-mouthed ever to exist, but to his crew he was “Number
One and a thorough gentleman”.(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 3)
One of the most memorable quotes regarding seafaring during the
wartime period came from an entirely respectable married man, who said,
“One of the things that struck me ... when I look back now, and I didn‟t think
nothing of it then, is how cheerful people were, considering the circumstances
that you were living under, not knowing whether you were gonna be dead in
756
. This phrase was used amongst my family and friends as I was growing up and is
now part of my vocabulary. I have no idea why Portuguese sailors should curse more than
others, but the phrase may have originated in New England where there were large colonies of
Portuguese fishermen from an early time and they may have been considered excessively
profane because of the rapidity and emotion of their speech and their tendency to invoke saints
and other religious concepts when upset.
the next five minutes. The people ... just used to carry on, as we said ... it‟s a
job and you did it. There are always characters, y‟know, I mean your habitual
drunks and one thing and another that y‟ used to make allowances for.” He
could not pin-point anything specific except that one knew and liked one‟s
shipmates. “An odd one wouldn‟t stay there too long, y‟know.” Ships were
reasonably happy in the wartime years in particular. “You used to look
forward to coming home, but you just did not know.”(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 3)
Like commercial fishermen,757 most seafarers are regarded by landsmen
either as hardy individualists fighting the immense power of the romantic
oceans, or as poor, drunken waterfront scum, who have no recourse but to
work the sea.758 Seamen themselves, however, seem most frequently to
conceptualise themselves simply as workers, continuing with their normal jobs
whether at peace or, with somewhat more effort, during a wartime situation.
The interviewees, as noted in Chapter Four, considered themselves to be
simply continuing in a peacetime occupation under wartime conditions. Some
enjoyed the opportunities they would not otherwise have had;(HMC 89-5, TTC p.
7)
others reiterated time and again that they were “just doing their jobs” and
“keeping on”(HMC 90-10, TTC pp. 1, 2, and 3). Fred McKamy said the merchant
marine had a more responsible attitude than the military -- it was a necessary
job to do, and then they could go home. The Navy “was just out for a good
time”.(HMC 90-28, TTC p. 2) A maritime author with foresight wrote, in 1936:
The merchant seaman‟s occupation is the same in peace and
in war. His task is to serve on commercial vessels ... no matter
what may be the condition of international amity or enmity.759
Nonetheless, despite their no-nonsense attitude, the fieldwork also
revealed that a fair number of respondents were affected -- either in a positive
757
. Timothy C. Lloyd and Patrick B. Mullen, Lake Erie Fishermen: Work, Tradition
and Identity, (Urbana/Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1990), 4-5, and see also 11.
758
. This will be investigated more fully in the following section.
759
. Healey, 7.
or negative way -- by the widely known and circulated stereotypes of the
seaman as a drunken, womanising, profiteering lout. On the positive side
emerged testimonies such as the following:
Most seamen were good, honest, hard-working chaps. Card
cheats and the like “got the silent treatment”.760 If a shipmate or
his family were ill or in need, the crew would take up a
“tarpaulin muster” collection.761 They also looked after each
other when drinking ashore.(HMC 90-37, TTC p. 3) “They were ...
tough and rough, fight at the drop of a hat, but if you were on
their side, b‟y, they‟d stick with you -- great, great
sailors.”(HMC 91-5, TTC p. 3) “Most seamen have a good sense
of humour”,(HMC 92-71, TTC p. 1) and “once you lose the ability
to pull the other guy‟s leg ... you‟re headed for trouble,” but this
rarely happens.(HMC 91-5, TTC p. 6)
The 1936 LIVERPOOL ECHO carried a column called “Today‟s
Quotation”, which once published the quote: “The wonder is always new
whether any sane man could be a sailor.” This troubled Alf Dennis, as there
was then a widespread tacit feeling in Britain, never openly expressed, that
only “no-goods” went to sea. I disagreed with the view that seafarers are
escapists, saying I felt that, in a sense, seafaring is “realer” than any shore job
except possibly farming. Mr. Dennis strongly agreed on this point, saying
there were bad boys at sea, but it was the same anywhere. He felt the bad
reputation of seafarers must have come from the days of sail, with their “press
gangs” and such, and characterised seafarers as hardworking people, saying he
himself had worked an eighteen-hour day throughout a seven-day week, and
farmers or miners were the only shore careers that could possibly compare to
this sort of hard work. He believed farmers, seamen, and miners to be the
mainstays of the British economy and the worst-treated by “the powers that
be”.(HMC 92-10, TTC pp. 4 and 5)
760
. i.e., were ostracised.
. Also called a “blanket muster”. See Chapter Five, Section A, Chapter Seven, or
the Glossary in Chapter Eight for a more extensive description of this tradition.
761
An eighty-nine-year-old retired Chief Engineer never forgot the Bible
verse762 inscribed over the main entrance of the Dock Board Building in
Liverpool. He thought it wonderful, and it has affected his entire life.(HMC 9229, TTC p. 3)
He declared he thought seafaring “the most wonderful life on
God‟s earth” and “the only life” for him, saying if the opportunity arose, he
would return to sea, but for the fact that he was now too old. “Seafarers are a
race apart. They think differently, and are brighter and better than landsmen.”
“Not that they were angels.... No ship is run with angels.”(HMC 92-28, TTC pp. 3
and 5)
Unlike the sociological analysts of the mercantile marine,763 he also
maintained “it has been statistically proved”764 that there are fewer divorces
amongst seafarers than in any land occupation. In my family it was always
maintained that seafarers and their wives do not have to put up with one
another as much as shoresiders, so every time the ship comes home it is like
another honeymoon. A modern mariner, writing in a collection of seafarer‟s
essays, listed parallel reasons given by other seamen‟s wives why their
marriages were strong and successful:
One said that every time her husband came home it was like
a second honeymoon. Another maintained that in nautical
marriages there was never time for the couple to get tired of
each other: they always tried to look their best and be on their
best behaviour to each other during the husband‟s leaves, all of
which it would be well-nigh impossible to keep up indefinitely.
All things considered, I believe a seaman can have a happy
married life provided that he confines himself to comparatively
short trips.765
762
. Psalms 107:23 and 24, which he quoted almost verbatim in the King James
Authorised translation: “They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
waters; these see the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep.”
763
. Sherar's Chapter V, pp. 24-29, on p. 29 her “prognosis for successful marriages
is poor”. Tony Lane concurs at several points in Grey Dawn Breaking.
764
. The nature of the “statistics” or their whereabouts was never mentioned.
765
. Hope, The Seaman‟s World, 90.
Mrs. Ed Richards entirely concurred,766 and the sister-in-law of the informant
cited immediately above once confessed to a gathering of the distaff side of the
family767 that she believed he was the youngest-looking husband because he
was so often at sea and away from nagging women.768(HMC 92-28, TTC p. 3)
If there is one thing the average seafarer is not, however, it is
“henpecked”, for:
...[s]ince time immemorial the sea has been regarded as a
moulder of character. Family black sheep, erring sons, and just
plain ruffians, were pushed off to sea as a last resort, the theory
apparently being that the sea was an almighty leveller of men,
and that they would return home chastened, wiser and better
beings. Nowadays the practice is not as popular as it was, but
the fact remains that a few years at sea can do wonders for a lad
if he has half a mind to avail himself of the unique advantages
it offers in the way of self-education.769
Thus the orphanages geared to sending their charges to sea, and thus, also, the
shoreside attitude discussed in the second section of this chapter, that the
seafarer is an incorrigible reprobate -- the “before-and-after” illustration
skewed to fit the biases of a few.
Some of these negative perceptions of seafarers as reflected in their
own self-images, have already been discussed, but many saw seafaring as a
highly desirable lifestyle which they advocated to others. Alan Peter said he
had enjoyed his time at sea and would encourage anyone to go -- for adventure
and “The University of Life”,(HMC 92-34, TTC p. 7) while Capt. H.G. Skelly
launched into a veritable soliloquy on the subject:
He never regretted going to sea. Professional sailors are the
nicest people in the world, not just the British ones, but all “are
a breed apart”, probably because they live so closely for so long
and are hard-working and terribly loyal, never chivvying for
favours behind one‟s back. Shore people seem different. Capt.
766
. “He was doing what he liked to do and I was always on a honeymoon. ... It was
when he retired that the honeymoon ended.”(HMC 90-62, TTC p. 1)
767
. He was told this after the fact by his wife.
768
. Her assessment of his looks was accurate, as at the time of the interview he
appeared a good ten years younger than his actual age.
769
. Hope, The Seaman‟s World, 91-92.
Skelly‟s father, grandfather, and four brothers were sailors, and
he never thought of doing anything else, but he did realise when
he first went aboard that he had just given up everything in life
that had given him pleasure. He was strange, only a boy
amongst a crowd of men; he had just begun to notice girls, go
on innocent dates to movies with girls from the rounders770
team, go bicycle riding, and to church dances, etc.; he was on
the football team. This was his life and he had to give it up. It
had been a jolly, happy life, but he had gone into a strange
environment with no back door, no enjoyment, and none of the
pleasures he had had for a couple of years before. It was not a
job, it was a new way of life and it was not all pleasure, because
things you were just learning to love, (football/cricket matches,
dances, church, movies, bicycle rides, watching girls play
rounders) that were enjoyable to any young lad, must be given
up to go to sea. Still he has never regretted going to sea. He
would have been a failure ashore, as he is not parsimonious,
does not love money, and will not backbite others to improve
himself. On shore he could have gone farther in the firm than
he did, but when criticised for what he considered proper
behaviour, he said he would “go back to sea tomorrow” rather
than conform. And there was happiness at sea, because you
liked the fellows you sailed with and the people you worked
for. Most were very fair and very nice. Capt. Skelly was never
unhappy with his employers, but could always talk to them,
although he occasionally “got a raw deal”. Still, it was mostly
good. “If you stayed at sea until you were Chief Officer, you
were too far gone for anything else.” To go ashore then, even
to a seafaring-connected job like stevedore foreman would give
irregular hard hours, so you would rather go to sea.(HMC 92-39,
TTC pp. 4-5)
As Capt. Skelly stressed the professionalism of the British merchant
seafarer as opposed to the offhandedness of his North American brother in the
period just prior to the war, so, too, did a maritime author of the period:
The seagoing population of Great Britain is a professional
group. This is not so true of the American merchant marine. In
the United States, to a greater degree than in other countries,
there is a seasonal, fluctuating employment. The seamen
affected often engage in temporary occupations ashore.771
Men who went to sea often had opportunities to learn things they
would never have been exposed to ashore. Dick Chilton was lucky to have
sailed with two experienced old Bosuns, each of whom took him in tow for a
time, teaching him ropework and wire-splicing techniques that were even then
on the decline.(HMC 92-57, TTC pp. 4-5)
770
. A game rather like a cross between softball and cricket.
771
. Healey, 8.
On Derek Belk‟s second voyage there was a doctor aboard -the head surgeon from a Glasgow hospital. The company had
given him a free voyage for all his war work, and he treated the
four Midshipmen as if they were medical students. One day he
made them chloroform him, and afterward excoriated them for
not doing it properly according to his instructions. There were
two appendectomies on that voyage outward bound and the
Midshipmen learned a lot more about medicine than most of
their contemporaries. It served Capt. Belk in good stead later,
when he got his own command, and may well have saved the
life of at least one of his crew.(HMC 92-52, TTC p. 4)
Bearers of a single deviant trait, such as alcohol abuse, are often
assumed to possess other undesirable traits allegedly associated with it,772 and
treating someone as a general deviant can produce “a self-fulfilling
prophecy”.773 This syndrome frequently appears in children falsely accused of
misbehaviour, but is no less likely amongst adults in similar circumstances,
and, as has been seen, many seafarers retain a youthful outlook in many
ways,774 which may well extend to these areas as well, while the observer must
remember that, although “deviant” behaviour is unconventional, sometimes
even bizarre, it need be neither immoral nor illicit.775
Combat fatigue and general exhaustion were occupational hazards
during wartime, and some seamen could tolerate more pressure than others.
Jim North met only one person in three and a half years at sea who “went
completely nuts”, and never saw anyone in the merchant marine who quit
through cowardice. Although many had the opportunity to sign off ships in
Iceland, and avoid the Russian convoys, few did so.(HMC 90-16, TTC p. 1) Nor
could Fred Williams recall anyone ever saying he had had enough and was
going to quit. Opportunities opened up for shore jobs, even in North America,
(he was British) but few, if any, took them. “You always had the feeling that
you were gonna get there, just the same. It was accepted. No one
772
. Becker (1963), p. 33.
. Becker (1963), p. 34.
774
. “...as a general rule, seamen retain their youth, both physically and mentally, far
longer than their shorebound contemporaries.” Hope, The Seaman‟s World, 87. See also
testimony of Thomas Brunskill(HMC 92-28 and 92-29) quoted elsewhere in this chapter.
775
. Becker (1963), p. 79.
773
deserted.”(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 2) On the other hand, several of Max O‟Starr‟s
shipmates had to go to the United Seaman‟s Service rest camp to recover from
combat fatigue after returning from the North Atlantic run,(HMC 90-11, TTC p. 1)
and there were those “limp-wristed” Stewards mentioned earlier who jumped
ship from one of his vessels.
Those like British Apprentices and Cadets, who were on double
watches, suffered most severely. One, often so tired he went without meals,776
was reprimanded by the Captain when he was supposed to turn in his
bookwork one Sunday, as he had been too tired to complete it,(HMC 92-30, TTC
p. 2)
while another was sometimes forced to add fourteen hours of in-port
cargo duty to a normal ten-hour day. The result was that “many times” he fell
asleep when he was supposed to be overseeing cargo.(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 3)777
Junior Radio Officer, Roy Caine, could not “just sleep” even when off duty, as
he was not only standing a “six-on-six-off” watch, but relieving his superior
for meals as well. When someone came to wake him, he would often sit up in
bed and carry on a conversation, but “didn‟t know a blind thing about it”.
Sometimes the Chief [R.O.] would come down, very, very “hot under the
collar”, to find out why he had not come on watch, but Caine honestly did not
know he had been called.(HMC 92-62, TTC p. 2)
In some cases, consequences were more extreme. A man could
become a kleptomaniac,(HMC 92-57, TTC p. 7) or even be driven to suicide:
At the end of a twelve- to thirteen-month voyage, the Chief
Steward waited until they got to the Mersey Bar, just before
they picked up the tugs and the pilot, then dressed in his
shoregoing rig and went overboard, committing suicide. The
crew later heard rumours that he had got himself into financial
776
. The reader is reminded that British Cadets and Apprentices had a reputation for
voracious, almost insatiable appetites, so only overwhelming fatigue could have provoked this
desperate situation.
777
. Although he could have been severely penalised, the authorities were lenient, as
much was too heavy to steal and liquor shipments and valuables from the specie locker had
more than one person minding them, so would still have been safe.
trouble. He had kept himself locked in his cabin during the
latter part of the voyage.(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 6)
It is curious that despite the widespread portrayal of the mariner as a
person who spends most of his earnings on drink, gambling, prostitutes and
related activities of low moral repute ashore, a significant portion of my
sampling stated that they did not gamble, because it led to ill feeling,778 and
that they drank (and often smoked) only in moderation, if at all.
On one interviewee‟s first voyage, they loaded beer for
PXs[NAAFIs] overseas, and everyone aboard took a case for
himself. The officers did not mind as long as nobody got
drunk; one or two beers a night was okay. If anybody caused
any trouble there would have been a search and all the beer
would have been confiscated.(HMC 90-72, TTC p. 7)
Three respondents said they did not drink at the time they
were shipping out actively, one saying he did not drink or
smoke until 1956. Another was unfavourably impressed by
seeing how others conducted themselves under the influence
and therefore did not drink. He said that many of the seafarers
of the wartime period were not heavy drinkers.(HMC 91-2, TTC p.
7; HMC 91-3, TTC p. 4; HMC 90-58, TTC p. 3) This was not a
momentous disclosure, as my stepfather himself neither smokes
nor drinks and most of his friends who do so exercise
moderation.
Other informants admitted to having had drink problems
but had later given up drinking altogether. One has been “dry”
for twenty-two years. Another said there were many alcoholics
in the merchant marine, but since the problem only manifested
itself when they were ashore, it posed no obstacle to their onthe-job performance. A third had been a heavy drinker
throughout his sea service and after, only having given it up
recently.(HMC 90-49, TTC p. 3; HMC 90-75, TTC p. 7; HMC 91-10,
TTC p. 3)
Nonetheless, despite these apparent tendencies to a virtuous nature,
only a small minority mentioned having habitually frequented religious
institutions -- even seamen‟s missions -- in search of shoreside recreation or
temporary accommodation. Those who did mention such affiliations did so
more often with gratitude and praise for the missions‟ good works, however,
than with the off-handed amoral attitude one might suspect of the stereotypical
seaman. While few seafarers are pious, many have strong personal faith.
778
. See Chapter Seven, Section A for more on this subject.
Asked by a minister after the war how he had prayed in the war zone,
one respondent said at times he would have paid God to take his life, but there
is a lack of inner strength from being brought up by a non-disciplinarian
family. Since he was raised strictly, he did what he was told and did not ask
questions because it was right, thus he did not find the wartime Merchant
Marine difficult.(HMC 90-40, TTC p. 3) Another said that since the war he has
changed and become “spiritual”. Although he despises organised religion, he
often thinks about his shipmates and hopes one day to meet those who were
lost.(HMC 91-10, TTC 4) One interviewee belonged to the Merchant Navy
Christian Fellowship -- “when you reached port, you just picked up a
telephone and some Christian in the port would come and meet you.” In
Tampa, Florida, for instance, a man came from the Lighthouse Mission, and in
Corner Brook, Newfoundland, a family entertained him in their home several
times.(HMC 92-63, TTC p. 5) Two other respondents were from strict Salvation
Army backgrounds(HMC 92-21, TTC p. 1; HMC 92-43, TTC p. 1), and another,
blown literally head-over-heels the length of the ship during an attack, was
reminded of his infant school days when a nun teaching religion had described
“the bumpy road into eternity”. He thought he had died and experienced it for
a moment or two until he came to his senses and realised he was all right.(HMC
92-72, TTC p. 1)779
A dichotomy appeared with regard to mariners‟ clubs and hostels.
Two British seafarers interviewed during the fieldwork spoke of having stayed
in them regularly, another only as a shipwreck victim, while a fourth paeaned
the social amenities provided by such institutions, but one of the U.S.
sampling decried them as “doghouses” run by and for anti-union “scab”
labour. Tom Thornton said, “And you never docked in your own home port.
779
. See also the Section on “Luck” in Chapter Seven, where a number of
respondents said that either they or their shipmates carried religious articles as talismans or
relied on faith rather than luck.
You had to accept wherever it docked, y‟know. ‟Specially tramping or tankers
and anything like that. So often after you paid off and went for a drink, you
stayed in the Sailors‟ Homes or wherever it might be.” One shipped out again
when one ran out of money.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 4) And R.J. Warren, an orphan,
listed Plimsoll House, Atlantic House, the Gordon Smith Institute, and the
British Sailors‟ Society as among his shoreside “homes” prior to his marriage,
saying there were “quite a number of clubs which were run by the Merchant
Navy Welfare Board that [also] supplied accommodation for merchant seamen
and carried on after the war”. “The fact is,” he said, “that I was much of a lone
wanderer. I was happy with the seafarin‟ life. I just more or less decided to
carry on.”(HMC 92-50, TTC p. 7) Missions to Seamen organised weekly dances
after which the parson saw the girls home so there was no “monkey business”
and they were “a nice class of girls” as well. Three of Capt. William Ashton‟s
associates married them.(HMC 92-36, TTC p. 6) It was Missions to Seamen as
well which picked H.G. Skelly and his shipmates up at the railway station
when they arrived in Dublin after a shipwreck and took them for a meal.(HMC
92-38, TTC p. 8)780
“Tex” English, on the other hand, always “sailed out of the union
hall”781 after he had joined the union and said “scab outfits” had their own
“doghouses” -- places for the crews to wait when they were between ships.
The Seamen‟s Church Institutes were also denounced as “doghouses” because
many non-union seamen stayed there. “Tex” was sure they were good places,
although he never was in one. He often passed the one in New York.(HMC 9074, TTC p. 5)
780
. Note also, in Section B of this chapter, seafarers‟ attitudes toward the Red Cross
and the Salvation Army.
781
. The reader is reminded that this terminology is nautical standard for getting
assigned to vessels through the union hiring hall.
The British fieldwork disclosed that men there almost invariably
shipped from their homeport, paying off there at the end of the voyage as well.
If the vessel paid off in a different port, these men would return to their
homeport Pool before shipping out again. The situation in North America is
quite different, perhaps because of the disparity in the geographical size of
Great Britain compared with that of Canada or even the U.S. Dick Playfer
asked me where men would stay between ships in strange ports, and was told it
was generally in a seamen‟s boarding house, in a seamen‟s mission, or with
friends and friends‟ families. Everyone Playfer sailed with went home when
paid off; after the allotted leave (they sometimes sneaked an extra day or two)
they went back to the Pool.(HMC 92-24, TTC pp. 4-5)
During the early stages of the war, tankers from Texas oil ports were
being sunk at a great rate off the Atlantic seaboard of North America. After a
while, the U.S. Government began offering a five-thousand-dollar life
insurance policy to merchant seamen, in case they were lost on this deadly run,
sometimes called the “Atlantic Turkey Shoot” because of the ease with which
victims were picked off by marauding U-boats. A rumour began to spread that
the seafarers were making the prostitutes of Texas towns like Beaumont,
Orange, and Galveston their beneficiaries -- and that these “ladies of the
evening” were collecting. Women from local churches, scandalised by such
intelligence, went to the ships and complained about this state of affairs. They
were basically told: “In peacetime you didn‟t have time for us. These gals
have been our friends, as well as doing business with us. They‟ve given us
affection, if not love, certainly more than just sex. What have you ever given
us besides a cold shoulder?” Needless to say, the warm-hearted ladies of the
brothels continued to benefit from the financial assistance of seamen both
living and deceased.782
Despite the womanising reputation of the sailor, nevertheless, said
James McCaffrey, “A wife in every port” is a fantasy. Before the war, seamen
did not make enough money to have a girl in every port. Most fellows only
went as far as the Missions -- great places, which had picture shows, concerts,
and bus outings, and were patronised by nice girls (and fellows). They still do
it. But there was never enough money for a wife in every port. Even today‟s
salaries would be spent up in no time. The rumour was started by a few single
fellows who managed it.(HMC 92-8, TTC pp. 5-6) A Chinese Assistant Cook was
the only sailor Rex Rothwell ever knew who literally had a wife in every port.
The allegation is usually untrue, but this man actually married someone in
every port; in Liverpool, the bride was a bus conductress. One day Rothwell
asked the Cook about all his wives; there were at least twelve. He said it did
not matter; the only serious one was the one in Hong Kong. If he returned to
any of the other ports in future, he said, he would stay on board.(HMC 92-72,
TTC p. 1)
One of Frank Power‟s shipmates, nicknamed “Shorty”, looked “like
one of the seven dwarfs”, but “was a real killer with the women”. He always
managed to get girls, in every port, “one on each arm”, although “he was real
grumpy, like „Grumpy‟ in the Seven Dwarfs, always grumpy about
everything”.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 4) A Royal Navy escort sailor was “footloose
and fancy-free up to a point, but that would have been misleading”. There
were problems about spending most of one‟s time aboard ship between Scapa
Flow and North Russia -- there was nobody waiting at either end. Even when
one came down for a “summer holiday” (he did so once to do a Malta convoy,
782
. On 14 July 1995, the SAN LUIS OBISPO COUNTY TELEGRAM-TRIBUNE ran a feature
article on me and my work. Capt. John Cusick rang me in response to the article, and this
story emerged during our telephone conversation.
once for the North Africa landings in 1943, and finally for the invasion of
France) one was confined to the ship for most of the time. If one got a leave, it
was a “quick prowl” round either Plymouth or Portsmouth, both of which were
inundated with sailors and also full of American troops who had social priority
because of nail varnish and nylons.(HMC 92-20, TTC p. 4) The North African
coast was a resort area populated by German girls who had been in France
when the war broke out and had removed there and become prostitutes. “They
had no other way to make a living; but if all the guys were like me, they made
a damned good living!” said one American. He also met a Chinese madam in
British Guiana, who wanted to “keep” him, and, thinking this a capital idea, he
attempted to jump ship, but failed, and the MPs783 brought him back.(HMC 9038, TTC p. 3)
James McCaffrey told a sad little story about how womanising could
backfire on seafarers during the war:
The CPR784 Duchess boats were continuously on the move
in peacetime. One would be in Liverpool, one in Montreal, one
outward bound, and one homeward bound: there was a
continuous stream of them. Every so many trips, each man got
five or six days‟ leave. Occasionally the crews met, but very
seldom, because of this pattern. All ran smoothly until the war.
When they began bringing evacuees to Canada from England,
the ships “laid up for a bit” in Montreal, as there was no convoy
system established yet, and sometimes two were in Montreal
simultaneously. The Duchess of Richmond was in and the
Duchess of Atholl arrived a few days later. The lads from the
Duchess of Richmond were out with their girls. When the
Duchess of Atholl came in, the crew went to see their girlfriends
and found out they were the same girls! There were four
Duchess boats and many of these girls had a “bloke” on each.
It was funny, but pathetic as well. Those of the crew who were
not philanderers “had a field day ragging the others”.(HMC 92-8,
TTC pp. 5-6)
But one Liverpool sailor said he was usually relieved to get a night
aboard in foreign ports as a change from “gallivanting”,(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 7)
and there are numerous seafarers, both past and present, who took and still
783
. Military Police.
. Canadian Pacific Railroad.
784
take their interest not in the stereotypical shoreside pursuits of the sailor, but in
any number of other activities. “There were things to do ashore besides booze
and brothels. There were opportunities.” In Bombay, one of Fred Williams‟s
shipmates went to the Parsee “Towers of Silence” and met the outcast who had
the job of taking the bodies up. It was miles away from the docks, but the
opportunities were there. There was such a lot to see.(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 6)
Another Merseysider also became quite voluble about the educational aspects
of going to sea. If he had stayed ashore, he said, he would not have had the
education he did. He went ashore in India, into the worst parts of Bombay. “If
you mean well, you can go anywhere. Animals and people know if you are
friend or foe.” He liked these experiences and they broadened his outlook. He
made many friends this way -- not only in India, but in Singapore, as
well.(HMC 92-10, TTC p. 5) My stepfather, an avid amateur photographer, long
after the war, fell into conversation with a docker in Thailand and eventually
found himself helping the docker‟s brother to bathe the Royal Siamese White
Elephants. And in Rio de Janeiro, Doyle Bales was initiated by a shipmate
into the practice of hiring a “bar girl” as a “factotum” and tourist guide, rather
than as a prostitute. The idea was to give the woman a set sum of money for
the day, allowing her to make all the arrangements and keep whatever was left
over. It was cheaper than hiring a guide, the girls were familiar with the local
practices of cheating tourists and kept their patrons from being so rooked, and
one had a pleasant companion for the day. The girls were out to make money
any way at all, but they were honest, and they got a holiday with pay and meals
as well, “and the company is fine as long as you stay outside the
bedroom”.(HMC 90-34, TTC p. 3 and HMC 90-35, TTC p. 1)
Drugs were mentioned by only two interviewees. Both were from the
British sample, and one said he could have been a drug baron if the time had
been right, having first learned of marijuana from a man who joined the ship
from the Middle East Pool.(HMC 92-12, TTC p. 1) The other declared that
nothing was taken to extremes during the war and that no one used drugs, even
in foreign ports. He then dolefully remarked, “It‟s an age that‟s gone
by.”(HMC 92-7, TTC pp. 2-3)
About a fifth of those interviewed during the fieldwork made specific
references to alcohol abuse, either with regard to themselves or to seafarers in
general, but nearly all limited their remarks to shoregoing behaviour,
indicating that only infrequently was drink available aboard ship and that, even
when it was, drunkenness at sea was an exceptional occurrence. “Robbie”
Owen said merchant mariners do most of their “performing”785 in port.
“Everybody gets drunk at the foot of the gangway.” The cocoon aboard ship is
safe and protected. Folks are the same all over, but the merchant marine is
very tolerant. Ashore the seafarer may appear to be the dregs of the earth, but
at sea he is different -- warm and good. Trouble occurs in port, not at
sea.(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 3) Another respondent said that men “got so drunk
ashore that they wanted to get back to the ship and behave, because they were
so sick and miserable”.(HMC 90-17, TTC p. 1) Capt. E.S. Wagner said, “There
were no holds barred. Women and drink are an occupational hazard -- a way
of life. You have to put yourself in our situations. We spent weeks and
months at sea. Once, in 1942, I spent two and a half months at sea without
getting ashore at all. People in that sort of situation relax and get plastered. It
happens.” That is why mariners were pictured that way -- because of how they
behaved in foreign ports, particularly in South America.(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 3)
In “the Brazils”, when the crew went ashore with a little pay and he had to bail
them out the next morning, one Radio Officer always had to bring them boots
or shoes, because in Brazil, when a drunken sailor was thrown out of a bar, he
785
. Like the Irish term “to create”, “to perform” means to behave in an
undisciplined manner. There are many degrees of such behaviour, ranging from the
innocuously amusing to the criminal.
was always “rolled” and his footwear, as well as his wallet taken. This was a
regular occurrence.(HMC 91-9, TTC p. 3)
Several informants told anecdotes about specific incidents involving
drink.(HMC 90-75, TTC p. 7; HMC 92-12, TTC p. 2; HMC 92-44, TTC p. 5; HMC 92-46,
TTC p. 2; HMC 92-52, TTC p. 5)
One of these episodes was so grave that it
precipitated a bona fide mutiny. There were English officers and
Newfoundland ratings, one of whom got drunk and went berserk with a fire
axe, attacking several others. He was returned to St. John‟s and discharged,
but none of the others were allowed ashore. Some, who lived near The
Battery, jumped overboard in The Narrows786 and swam ashore. They were
then ordered to sail to Ireland, but the crew refused to go, instead taking over
the ship and making once more for St. John‟s, after considerable damage to the
vessel. They eventually received naval escort back to St. John‟s, where they
were tried for mutiny and malicious damage.(HMC 91-10, TTC p. 3)
Another man, emphasising that American merchantmen were dry
ships, but that most British vessels made beer, at least, available to the
crewmen, said he had once received only two pounds when he paid off at the
end of a voyage, due to the extent of his “slop bill”787 for beer and
tobacco.(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 6) Most crews, as has been said, were fine until
they got ashore and got drunk, but one man‟s ship found a solution. They
allowed each crew member two cans of beer per day at sevenpence a can,
much cheaper than the price ashore. This caused disinterest amongst that crew
in getting drunk when ashore and fostered a tendency instead to purchase gifts
for their families and friends of items which were in short supply or difficult to
obtain at home.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 6) Interestingly enough, a captured seaman
786
. The Battery and The Narrows are areas of St. John‟s Harbour.
. The “slop chest” is the shipboard canteen where such necessities as soap, razor
blades, and underwear may be purchased as well as such luxuries as sweets and tobacco.
Payment in coin is not usually made, but a bill or slate of each man‟s purchases is kept to be
settled when the ship pays off at the end of the voyage.
787
told how he “...used to get seven pfennigs a day prisoner-of-war allowance.
You never got the money, but for seven pfennigs you could buy a bottle of
beer, so we used to save up all week and get seven bottles of beer and get
drunk on a Saturday night. Now that might sound surprising on a German
raider on the high seas. And if we got too noisy, they shut the fans off.
Quieten us down a bit.”(HMC 92-51, TTC p. 7) I found it curious that the prices
were so similar -- sevenpence in the one case and seven pfennigs in the other.
Bill Fortune admitted that, like many others, he was too fond of
“bending the elbow” to study for a higher ticket, so never rose above the rating
of Bosun,(HMC 92-32, TTC p. 7) and Tom Thornton also rose to that rating, but
never sat for an officer‟s ticket. Saying he was often asked why, especially
since he was on ships which carried Cadets, he maintained that basically it was
because he looked older than his age and enjoyed good times ashore mixing
with the rough-and-ready sailormen and going drinking with them.(HMC 92-56,
TTC p. 1)
He later told the story of a trip to Dakar on a tanker which discharged
at a dock about six miles from town where there was a “snack bar” type of
establishment which sold onion beer, which the seamen drank and liked. “It
sent us off our trolleys.” Once they were there about four days, unlike the
modern twelve-hour turnaround. They ran out of money and sold their clothes
to buy more beer. Twice one of Thornton‟s shipmates returned to the ship in
nothing but his underwear. It was almost the same in Falmouth -- he was a
smartly-dressed man when he went ashore, but as soon as his money ran out,
he would sell his watch and clothes. There was not a thing he did not know
about seamanship, however. If it had not been for drink, he might have been a
skipper, as his ability was second to none. It was sad. He was in his late
twenties, when Thornton was about eighteen.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 7)
And the seaman‟s legendary individualism and tendency to drink could
lead to amusing incidents like the one from just after the war‟s end, recalled by
Radio Officer Alan Kingdom. One morning they were coming back into the
Thames, with the skipper “on the bottle”, and there were no pilots at the pilot
station. The man on the pilot boat called out, “There are no pilots. Follow the
ship ahead!” The Old Man got on the loud-hailer and replied, “Follow him? I
wouldn‟t follow Jesus Christ up that channel; not even if he was walking!” He
had to go up channel in the end, though. His Deck Officers often “carried”
him, but he eventually received the Order of the British Empire, which was
well-deserved after five years on that coast, despite the booze, and no one
begrudged him the medal.(HMC 92-16, TTC p. 2) Yet another interviewee
mentioned a Master who had turned to drink as a result of the heavy strain
under which he was put by his job in wartime.(HMC 92-50, TTC p. 10) The
evident sympathy in such cases always lay with the alcoholic Captain, whose
failings were excused and justified eloquently, but not everyone would have
wished to emulate him. Ernest Tunnicliffe, as has been said in Chapter Six,
Section C, did not see as a viable option ending his career like some fine
skippers he had known, who led empty lives and turned to drink as a
refuge.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 7)
When drink was combined with some happenings aboard, friction
could result. In places like Liverpool, where there were bigger-class ships
with lots of Firemen, shore problems and family feuds sometimes came to sea,
as well.(HMC 92-54, TTC p. 5) In his entire career, J.H. Shackleton saw only one
“dust-up”, where British merchant seamen fought another group. This
occurred in South Africa, and it was more the fault of drink than anything
else.(HMC 92-42, TTC p. 8) Sometimes, however, men “went missing at sea”.
Everyone knew what had happened; there was a “squabble” and two were just
“lost at sea”; they were dead.(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 4) Several men told of serious
confrontations, resulting in severe injury(HMC 92-60, TTC p. 7; HMC 92-49, TTC p.
3)
or even death.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 3) In the latter instance, however, it was
patently a case of self-defence, and the killer was exonerated.
All the men aboard one vessel had unsavoury reputations. One
of them had killed five people. The informant, however, was a
good friend, “once the others got over the initial resentment that
„a little fucker like me‟ with only six months‟ sea time had
papers” declaring him a Quartermaster or an AB. He used to
get into a lot of fights, though. He would go ashore and get
drunk and resentful. Everybody drank too much; they were
madmen. He knew no one who did not. You experience a lot
in emotion He has always been afraid of everything, but was
ashamed of the fears and could not handle them. “It wasn‟t the
fear that killed me, but the shame of admitting it. So I took to
the exact opposite.” He was afraid, so acted fearless -- with
loads of booze -- he could not do it without. He was drunk all
the time; he drank a lot.(HMC 91-10, TTC pp. 3-5)
Conversely, as a Junior Officer on the “Manzland Run”,788 Keith
Marshall was asleep one night in port, when, in the early hours, the
Quartermaster summoned six sailors and entered his room.789 Marshall “woke
to see a half a dozen leering drunken faces, saying „We think you‟re the best
man on the ship, Third Mate.‟” It was “something to remember”, although he
ruefully admitted thinking he had “gone downhill since”. Neither of us was
sure whether or not such behaviour should be taken as a compliment, but the
point was that when men became homesick or drunkenly maudlin, such
reactions were exaggerated by the length of the voyage.(HMC 92-30, TTC p. 6)
“Draft-dodging” or evading conscription will be covered in more depth
in the following Section, but it is worth noting that half a dozen of the
fieldwork interviews brought forth strong personal opinions on this
controversial topic. One respondent considered the United States Maritime
Service, at least the Sheepshead Bay establishment, to be a “draft-dodger
outfit”(HMC 90-19, TTC p. 1), but Capt. Frank Waters spoke for the majority
788
. This route ran between Montreal, Australia, and New Zealand and was semiacronymically nicknamed “MANZland”.
789
. It should be noted that, while the term “cabin” is used for passengers‟
accommodations, officers‟ are usually called “rooms” and crew‟s quarters are most often
termed “fo‟c‟sles”, even when the latter sleep only one or two people.
when he said it was true there were some draft-dodgers aboard ship, but
generally the men were good and loyal people.(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 3)
One informant‟s wife, hearing us discussing the prevalent North
American view of merchant mariners as draft-dodgers, profiteers, and “4Fs”,790 joined vigorously in the interview. She said she was young and
impressionable at the time and thought the merchant marine was “bad”. “You
either joined the Services or you were a draft-dodger.” She was never proud
that her husband had been a merchant seaman, because “the typical merchant
seaman is not a gentleman”.(HMC 90-72, TTC p. 3) In the subsequent interview I
was reminded additionally that although there were many “4-Fs” in the
Merchant Service, not all were so rated because of physical or mental
deficiencies. The rating applied to moral turpitude as well, and a number of
ex-convicts joined the merchant marine because they were rejected by the
other Services.(HMC 90-74, TTC pp. 4-5) The wife of the following interviewee
however, energetically refuted this viewpoint, telling in detail how she had
“tongue-lashed” a real estate agent immediately after the war, when he
suggested that her husband, ineligible for the “G.I. Bill”, “was not a vet” and
so did not deserve a veteran‟s discount on the mortgage of a home.(HMC 90-74,
TTC p. 7)
An English interviewee maintained that within six months after the
start of the war there were neither sufficient ships nor seamen to man them, so
the Merchant Navy increased by about a hundred percent, both ships and
seamen, the latter from diverse backgrounds. People volunteered to go to sea
as a choice between that and the Army. Many “local lads” in sea towns opted
for the sea, because they knew more about it; nearly every family had someone
790
. A designation instituted by United States Draft Boards (conscription authorities)
indicating that, in opposition to 1-A, or “ideal for conscription”, these people were inadequate
to serve in the Armed Forces by virtue of weakness, ill health, physical or mental disability,
moral turpitude, being a convicted felon, etc., and therefore generally undesirable.
at sea; but they were not necessarily suited to the life.(HMC 92-54, TTC p. 4)
And an American who had served in both the merchant marine and the U.S.
Navy said of those who joined the Merchant Service at the beginning of the
war, some were “4-F”, some just wanted to join something, some were draftdodgers, but they had as much or more combat in the North Atlantic than the
United States Navy did in the South Pacific, so many of those “sorry merchant
seamen” paid with their lives because they were unarmed.791 Over eight
hundred vessels with crews and cargoes were lost on the Murmansk Run
alone, “so the draft bit is pro and con”.(HMC 89-3, TTC p. 1)
“We were the Cinderellas, of course. And yet, pro rata we
lost more men than all the other services, didn‟t we?” After
this remark, I said I was afraid the golden coach had turned
back into a pumpkin and the rats had run away.(HMC 92-60, TTC
p. 2)
British merchantmen have never lacked crews in either peace or war,
despite frequent harsh conditions and ill-treatment. Though their service was
recognised in wartime, they were often overlooked in peaceful periods and had
to struggle to improve their own conditions.792
Nevertheless, little inducement though they have had, some
insistent urge has driven them to seek their living upon the sea.
They have always been a race apart from their fellows ashore,
with an attitude to life which landsmen have found difficult to
understand. They have been tough-livers, used to giving hard
knocks and to taking them, improvident and thriftless by
standards ashore; yet they have shown themselves brave,
resourceful and pertinacious, and through the centuries they
have created a tradition of their own which is as strong as it
ever was and is altogether different from that of the Royal
Navy.
In the essentials of character they seem to have changed
little through the centuries. They have always been, and still
are, impatient of discipline, fiercely tenacious of their rights,
and ready to combat any infringement of their independence.
They are the Freemen of the Seas, taking service when they
791
. This latter remark is almost a word for word quote of War Shipping
Administration spokesman, Capt. Edward MacCaulay‟s rebuttal of media insults to merchant
seamen. See Donald Edward Willett, “Joe Curran and the National Maritime Union, 19361945,” Graduate College of Texas A. and M. University, (American History), December 1985,
159-160, citing “Slackers and Suckers,” Time, January 11, 1942, 4. See also the following
section for a more in-depth examination.
792
. Rutter, 195.
will, leaving it when they feel inclined, preserving their liberty
to choose their ships and to sail to whatever part of the world
happens to call them. They may be led, but they cannot be
dragooned. Among the industrial workers of Great Britain they
are the supreme individualists, and whereas their brothers in the
naval service are content to live in settled communities at sea
and to accept the conditions of a life which is ordered at every
turn, the merchant seamen are nomadic in habit and temper,
brooking no restraint, desiring only to follow the call of the sea
when and as they hear it.
This sturdy insistence on their independence has, throughout
their history, put them at a disadvantage in dealing with their
employers, particularly when the supply of men has exceeded
the demand, as it usually has. By their own wish they have
been treated as casual labour, with no assurance of a permanent
wage, liable to be thrown out of employment in times of trade
depression, because freedom of choice and action has meant
more to them than security. The British mercantile marine has
never lacked seamen to sail its ships, either in peace or war.
Those men have rarely been well-treated; usually their ships
have been ill-found, their pay inadequate, their food badly
cooked and badly served and only too often insufficient, their
quarters such as decent men would not tolerate ashore. While
the nation has appreciated their services in time of war, in
peace-time they have always been forgotten; such
improvements in their condition as they have obtained have
come through their own efforts, in the face of stern
opposition.793
But much of this eloquent and descriptive passage applies to all
seafarers generally, not just to those from Great Britain or even the Allied
nations. Men who were torpedoed or taken prisoner often pointedly declared
that they had not been ill-treated at the hands of enemy mariners; all were
seamen and so had something in common; but it was different when the
German Army or the Gestapo were in charge, as in many prison camps
ashore.(HMC 92-47, TTC p. 2) “Merchant seamen -- seamen generally -- were
more broad-minded than were Army personnel.” Luckily, one prison camp,
even had a German Naval administration.794 This was fortunate, as they were
kind and considerate to the captives in their charge.(HMC 92-63, TTC p. 1)
793
. Rutter 195-196.
. This informant did not clarify which camp he was in, but it is to be assumed it
was the one designated “Marlag”, as that was a camp set up specifically for captive mariners,
primarily merchant seamen.
794
Certain U-boat commanders are also commended for making every
effort to assist those who had abandoned stricken vessels, and at least one is
quoted as apologising for having sunk the informant‟s ship, but “war is war”.
This same enemy kept the lifeboats together, although he “had orders ... to
shoot everyone”.795(HMC 92-45, TTC p. 5) A former prisoner-of-war said after his
ship had been sunk: “They couldn‟t give us enough. They were very, very
kind -- sort of -- to us at the time.” When a prison ship landed her human
cargo at Bordeaux, her Captain, “a Merchant Navy man, after all”, gave each
POW “a tot” of cherry brandy, and since some was left after the first round, he
served a second, because they had given no trouble on the inward
journey.(HMC 92-62, TTC p. 7) Another respondent, who lost two ships to
enemy action, said the Captain of one attacking vessel was “the old type who
went by the rules of the sea”, while the other was “a real Nazi, who let his
crew have target practice, raking different levels of the ship with fire” resulting
in a number of deaths among the crew.(HMC 92-43, TTC p. 2)
While in the Combat Zone, Vincent Finan‟s American merchant ship
rescued the crew of a stricken British freighter. At the time of this rescue, said
Capt. Finan, “it was still a gentlemen‟s war”. The German U-boat commander
had sent the distress signal received and followed by the American vessel, and
none of the British crew were lost.(HMC 90-59, TTC p. 1)796 This testimony
demonstrates that not all the enemy were perceived as barbaric by mariners,
and it gives more insight into the amicable postwar contacts known to have
been made by some of these veterans with surviving veterans of the Axis
maritime forces.
795
. The informant said the German submariner was exonerated at the Nuremberg
trials because he had refused to obey that order.(HMC 92-45, TTC p. 5)
796
. A romanticised painting of this rescue operation hangs in the American
Merchant Marine Museum at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, King‟s Point, New York.
Capt. Finan, then a junior officer, was ordered to write a complete, but brief, radio message
describing the operation, to be sent home under his Captain‟s signature, and this message is
inscribed on a brass plaque beneath the painting.
Merchant seamen, far more frequently than their uniformed military
brethren, came into contact with enemies and enemy sympathisers in foreign
ports. At the Portland [Oregon] Maritime Museum, I encountered a
“watchkeeper”797 who, although not formally interviewed on tape, told of going
into a port in South America where he and a shipmate went into town for a
drink. When asked, they admitted to being Americans, and the landlord
quietly told them his was a “German house” and they should finish their beer
and leave, which they then did, without further incident.798 An Englishman‟s
story was more elaborate:
Lourenço Marques in Portuguese East Africa, like Portugal
itself, was neutral during the war, and there were lots of
Germans in the town. Before British seamen were allowed
ashore, the British Consul came aboard to warn them of places
to avoid, and “naturally” many headed immediately for the
banned areas. (“It‟s psychology -- a ban makes it desirable.
Forbid would be too strong a word,” but they had been given
quite an adamant warning.) The informant and a friend went
into a crowded café to get something to eat, and only a shared
table was available. The man seated there told them, in good
English, that he was German and perhaps they would not want
to sit with him. They did not know how to react, but he seemed
a decent sort, so they went ahead and sat. The interviewee has
felt vaguely unpatriotic ever since, for having “consorted with
the enemy”. “It seemed odd -- a situation that could only occur
with seafarers.”(HMC 92-25, TTC p. 1)
The American seafarer‟s comprehensive view of himself during the
Second World War is expressed in articulate if somewhat sentimental fashion
by Palmer:
The typical seaman [in 1936, the Maritime Commission] found,
was born in a seaboard state, unmarried, underpaid, a transient
from ship to ship. He considered himself to be working at a job
inferior to his capacities, and he didn't take enough interest in
his country to cast a ballot. From seamen themselves one gets
the impression that most of them look on their work prosaically
enough -- as a means of earning a living and nothing more.
Some got in during the depression when shore jobs folded. On
the whole they soft-pedal any notion that they lead a romantic
life, but a lot of them have salt in their blood whether they will
797
. Guides or interpreters, especially volunteers, who serve the public at maritime
museums are often nautically designated “watchkeepers” or “watchstanders”.
798
. Paul Buhman, personal conversation, January 1990. Mr. Buhman later sent me
a typescript of his wartime seafaring memoirs, which he was preparing for his grandchildren.
admit it or not, and get restless when they are on dry land too
long. By travelling around the world they claim they have a
better grasp of international affairs than the ordinary citizen.
“Seamen are pretty cosmopolitan.... They‟ve been around
and seen things. We were ready to refuse to load old scrap for
Japan six years ago. We knew what was coming all right.”
...they had had a good first-hand squint at fascism in German
and Italian ports. Many ... felt an admiration for Soviet Russia
after stopovers in the Black Sea and the Baltic. They say they
are fighting now because, unlike a lot of people, they know
what war is all about.
According to the seamen themselves, they come from every
part of the country and nearly every trade -- not only from farm
and factory but from the professions. Some are lawyers and
quite a surprising proportion are ex-reporters. ... Many went to
sea during the depression when jobs were hard to get. Some are
pure adventurers.799
What did the seafarer think of when he considered “The War at Sea”?
It appears that circumstances presented the British and the North American
seaman with viewpoints as widely divergent as their geographical points of
origin. The war was not actually being fought on the shores of North America,
and the teenager who signed up for one of the Maritime Service training
schools was often the same who had been rejected by military recruiting
officers as too young. Capt. George Jahn remarked that he been approached
for berths by fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds who could not get into the United
States Navy. There was no reason for them to be draft-dodgers; they just
wanted to be in on the action. He told them if they would send their mothers
to him, their requests could be expedited. This was neither a sarcastic
comment about their ages nor a lascivious remark, but a suggestion that if the
mothers agreed to present their sons‟ cases to the Captain, he could be assured
that the youngsters actually had parental permission to go to sea.(HMC 89-5A,
TTC p. 2)
One fifteen-year-old seaman was the son of a secretary of the railroad
engineers‟[engine drivers‟] union. “Tex” English visited his home and found
799
. Palmer, 130-131.
it was luxurious and the family “dressed for dinner”. The son, however, only
wanted to work on cars and sail ships. A sixteen-year-old with whom he also
sailed only “weighed 100-110 pounds wet” and was too small to handle the
steam hose, so it was left to “Tex” to “blow” the boilers himself.(HMC 90-35,
TTC p. 1)
One of the oldest respondents said there were a lot of age extremes,
both very old and very young. He felt the young ones often “froze” under
stress and that very old men would usually make only one trip, “because they
could not stand the young ones”.(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 3) Another interviewee said
the ages of the men aboard ship probably ranged from about seventeen to
sixty-six. Some were very old; these were usually in the Engine Department.
Most Deck people were a little younger than the Engine crew. There were no
academy graduates; all were old “up from the hawsepipe” types. Academy
graduates were rare and he never sailed with any until after the war.
Age-related deficiencies became apparent at boat drills, when the older
ones had to be “carried”. Almost all the thirteen deaths amongst the President
Harrison‟s crew in a prisoner-of-war camp were due to age and related
infirmity, but in doing the normal jobs they had been hired for, they were quite
adequate.800 The informant postulated as to what jobs one might manage to do,
if one were not in good shape physically. Cook, yes; Messman, no; Engineer,
yes; Mates did not do as much physical work then as they do now, and he
cannot recollect anyone who was really too old to be effective. It may have
happened, but they either learned to compensate for their deficiencies or others
“covered” for them. Being people who were there because of the war effort,
they were usually people who had few other skills.(HMC 90-3, TTC pp. 3-4)
800
. The informant and his daughter jointly researched and wrote a book on the
Harrison‟s loss: David H. Grover and Gretchen G. Grover, Captives of Shanghai: The Story of
the President Harrison (Napa CA: Western Maritime Press, 1989).
There were some characters aboard. One man, old enough to be the
informant‟s grandfather at the time, was an alcoholic and a problem. “You
have to learn to handle people like this. You learn on the job. Experience is
the best teacher. You had to grow up quick to survive.”(HMC 90-71, TTC p. 3)
Bill Krasnosky first sailed in 1928 and was in his thirties during the war.
Although actually older than many of his shipmates, he was involved with a
lot of kiddish pranks that he “wouldn‟t dare attempt now.”(HMC 90-7, TTC p.
1)
During the war many were not “able-bodied” but just taken aboard as
“bodies”. A one-armed Second Mate was unable to use the sextant, so the
Captain or Chief Mate (or the “green” Third) had to take his sights for him and
turn the information over so he could plot his courses. Another ship had a
Chief Pumpman with a wooden leg. “It didn‟t stop him; he got the job done;
there were all kinds of people like that.”(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 3) Anybody who
could walk and was warm to the touch could ship out. Some aboard were
“old”, but probably not as old as they seemed when one was eighteen. The
respondent sailed with lads as young as fifteen, as well as a lot of ex-convicts
and parolees. They were desperately short-handed, particularly in 1944.(HMC
90-74, TTC p. 2)
Nor were such physical infirmities the only inadequacies in the
wartime Merchant Service; there were cases of illiteracy as well. One
respondent said there was a “professional” Ordinary Seaman801 whom he tried
to teach to read without success,(HMC 90-37, TTC p. 3) while another sailed with
a Second Cook who had to open tins to ascertain their contents if the labels did
not include pictures.(HMC 90-52, TTC p. 3)
The young North American greenhorn often had no background in
seafaring; neither family nor friends had been career seafarers to influence his
801
. By this term he intended to indicate the man was consigned permanently to the
lowest rating by his inability to read.
decision for or against the sea as a career. He went to do his part in the war
effort, to seek adventure and fortune in foreign parts, and often to at least a
small extent because of the danger involved. In many cases, like that of Bill
Kirby, a cattle rancher‟s son from the San Joaquin Valley of California, he had
no intention of remaining at sea once the war was over, but planned to return
to his shoreside work, friends, family, and lifestyle on the cessation of
hostilities.(HMC 90-13, entire)
The British seafarer did not have to run away to seek adventure, action,
and danger; they were right in his own back garden. Many who sailed out of
Liverpool carry discharge books stating that a previous book was “lost through
enemy action.” At first one would assume the book went down with a
torpedoed, bombed, or mined ship, but he might be wrong; many such books
were lost because they had been left ashore for safety and were destroyed when
the Liverpool customshouse was bombed.(HMC 92-2, TTC p. 1)802
One military informant told of a fashion-conscious young matelot who
returned to his vessel after leave in a “natty double-breasted civvy suit”.
While he was out socialising on shore leave, his home had been bombed and
his entire Royal Navy kit destroyed. Not so much as a collar was left, and he
had to be entirely re-kitted in Greenock.(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 3) A merchant
seafarer, having lost all his gear when a vessel was bombed, bought a suit and
overcoat from a Liverpool tailor, but left them at the tailor‟s shop in Lord
Street “for safekeeping” when he went back to sea. On his return, he found the
shop had been levelled in an air raid and his shoregoing clothes were gone, as
well. He never discovered whether the tailor himself had survived the
bombing.(HMC 91-7, TTC p. 8 and HMC 91-8, TTC p. 1) Many casual mentions
were made during the course of the interviews of family photographs, pre-war
802
. This is verified by other interviews and printed sources as well.
seafaring mementoes, etc. lost when the family home was damaged or
destroyed by enemy action during the Blitz.(i.e., HMC 92-61, TTC p. 1)
Men spoke of being unable to persuade their wives or other family
members to evacuate to more rural areas,(HMC 92-28, TTC p. 2, HMC 92-61, TTC p.
1)
of having Anderson shelters in the garden,(HMC 92-62, TTC p. 2) of being
locked into railway stations during air raids or dodging from shelter to shelter
between bombing raids in an effort to get back to the ship before leave
expired.(HMC 92-62, TTC pp. 2-3)
To a man living in such circumstances ashore, his shipboard career
truly was “just doing the job” and being immolated in the blazing wreckage of
a torpedoed tanker was no more objectionable a fate than being burnt to a crisp
in one‟s home or workplace by an incendiary bomb. Artie Lee said, “You
never considered the war. You could have been killed by a bomb on your
house or by crossing the road. Everyone at home was going through the same
thing; it became part of life; you were not particularly afraid of where you
went. You could be killed; many were, but you just got on with your life. It
didn‟t seem any more dangerous to be at sea than to be at home.”(HMC 92-48,
TTC p. 4)
A far smaller segment of the British than of the North American
interviewees had shipped originally because they were too young to join the
armed forces, but one said that when he first sailed he was so small that he had
a special orange box to stand on so he could see the compass in the
binnacle.(HMC 92-41, TTC p. 5) A significant number, however, joined the
Merchant Service because poor eyesight or other physical shortcomings made
them ineligible for their preferred military service. Nevertheless it seems the
percentage of those who continued their seafaring careers into the war years
despite advancing age was not significantly larger on either side of the
Atlantic.
W.L. Hoyer, a British Catering rating recalled an incident after a
collision, when a man in his Department, about seventy years old, (“they didn‟t
worry about your age then”) appeared at his boat station fully dressed, with his
bowler hat and overcoat, scarf, umbrella, and lifejacket. He had a big white
moustache and looked like he was out for a stroll -- at three in the morning,
with the alarms all going, and a lifejacket on over the lot. “If that isn‟t an
Englishman, I‟d like to know what is!” The funniest part was when they left
their fire stations and went to boat stations, all the boats were crushed, but
some were only half destroyed. The old chap got into a half-lifeboat. “What
are you doing, Walter?” “I‟m going to row.” “You‟ll have a hard time doing
that, Walter, it‟s only half there.”(HMC 92-45, TTC pp. 2-3)
One seafarer‟s wife, asked what it was like for her, waiting at home,
said simply, “Worryin‟, really.” The mail was not reliable; even aerograms
were often held back, heavily monitored and censored. Her husband had once
brought her a handbag from Casablanca, so he wrote in one letter, “I may be
able to get you another handbag,” to give her some idea of where they were.
When he was on the troopship Andes, “half the population of Liverpool” knew
they were going to New York and when they were going and when they were
due back. It was not too bad when you were on a regular run, but long tramp
voyages were the worst. The worst thing for those at home was the lack of
communications.(HMC 92-70, TTC p. 5)
Reassignment through the Pools or the labour unions was complicated
by the conflict in which the world was involved. Leave between assignments
was a desirable thing and a statutory right, but the way in which the hiring
offices administered the letter of the law could vary as much as the actual
statutes did between North America and the United Kingdom. All the time
one Newfoundland interviewee worked at sea, especially during the war, he
“never had a holiday, never had a leave. There was no such thing as leave; if
you signed off, you were out of a job.”(HMC 91-12, TTC p. 5) An American
disagreed slightly, saying that in his experience there was a liberal leave setup, with two days off for every week aboard up to a thirty day total, but “if you
took more than thirty days‟ leave, the draft board was after you”,(HMC 90-74,
TTC p. 4)
while another said wires were sent to men ashore on leave, warning
them not to overstay their time or they would be drafted.(HMC 89-2, TTC p. 3)
Another Newfoundlander, sailing out of England, whose previous ship had
been bombed, was told he had one week leave, which was not much after a
shipwreck. At the end of the week he went to the Pool office. “And you know
what he said the first thing? Not how do you feel or whatever. He said, „I got
a ship for you.‟ Well the way he said it, it made me mad a little bit. I said,
„I‟m not taking it,‟ I said, right straight out. ... I said, „I‟ve been on a big
shipwreck,‟ I said, „And I don‟t think, I think people should have more‟n a
week to get over this thing.‟ „Yes,‟ he said, „You can refuse two ships.‟”(HMC
91-7, TTC p. 7)
During the time ashore without a ship, while waiting “on the
Pools” for another vessel British seamen during the war received a temporary
subsistence allotment known as “Pool Money”.(HMC 92-46, TTC p. 2) Seamen
on both sides of the Atlantic were generally allowed to refuse two assignments
before acceptance became mandatory, but this rule did not always hold.
Smuggling and black market trading were rife amongst seafarers,
especially in Germany immediately after the war,(HMC 90-1, TTC p. 2) but it
took place in plenty of other places as well. Bedsheets were at a premium in
North Africa. Twenty-five to fifty dollars per sheet in U.S. cash currency was
not an unusual price.803 The Armed Guard watched the proceedings as my
803
. Fantastic deals were arranged for stolen ships‟ sheets and pillowcases, butter,
sugar, cigarettes and candy.(Carse, The Long Haul, p. 152)
informant sold sheets to men in a “bumboat” and even shot into the water to
frighten the boatmen into offering “the right price”. The informant made five
hundred dollars, which he sent home to his mother who worried that her son
was doing “something wrong” to send so much money. On another occasion,
the informant and several of his shipmates wrapped sheets around their bodies
under their clothing when going ashore, but were caught by the Military
Police. The informant does not believe he was doing wrong, as “we were only
trying to raise money to buy war bonds”.(HMC 90-46, TTC p. 3) A woman who
lived near my Sheffield accommodation told me how, when she had been on
guard duty at the London Docks during the war, men used to pass rationed
items to her and her fellow guards to carry out of the security area. She said
they often looked “like pregnant elephants” and would then go to the nearest
public toilet, where they would remove all the items and return them to the
men to take home to their families and girlfriends.804
In Singapore, waiting for the last load of evacuees, some
Catering staff were asked by a sailor from the Deck crew to
help unload medical gear and the like so they would be
prepared to load passengers in the morning. They agreed as
some of them knew how to operate the winches and other
loading machinery. They worked until about 2100 hours and
then one of the gang came back drunk. My informant “checked
out” the warehouse and found a shed with whiskey and other
spirits, as well as foodstuffs which were scarce in the United
Kingdom, such as tinned bacon, butter, Ovaltine, and other
such items. There was looting, but although he let them help
themselves to the general stores, my informant allowed his
crew to take only one case of spirits (12 bottles) to be divided
between them. They headed back to the ship, but saw the
captain on the dock, so they put their spoils down and assumed
a nonchalant air. The ship‟s doctor, actually a male nurse,
found them out and told them, “Get it aboard the bloody ship!”
It was a “real haul” due to the rationing at home and they also
got a bottle of whiskey each.(HMC 92-8, TTC p. 5)
Another respondent recalled a time when three cakes were delivered
aboard and he and his mates stole one. The cakes were for the Captain, who
demanded to know where his third cake had gone, but they never admitted the
804
. She appeared at a local bus stop on V-E Day Commemoration Sunday, wearing
medals on her jacket, and we fell into conversation.
theft. Also, in an English port, the crew broke into a jewellers‟ and stole a
large chiming clock, which woke the respondent as it was brought aboard.
The next morning, when the C.I.D.805 came to investigate, there were gin
bottles floating all round the ship.(HMC 92-12, TTC p. 1-2)
One ship we had a small deck load of medicinal alcohol aft of
#5 hatch, and covered with a tarp. It was in gallon cans. Every
day the ensign would uncover the load and count the cans.
Every day the load would be another can short. The last night
he stood guard himself. In the morning another can was gone.
There was a shaft coming up from the shaft alley that ended
under the tarp. Every night someone from the engine gang
would climb up, reach out and swipe another can. He never
figured it out.806
“Perhaps things were a bit more rambunctious” in 1945, at
the end of the Japanese war, when yet another British
interviewee went to Baltimore in “the craziest ship” he was
ever in. “It was a right headcase crew. There was fellas from
the mines of Wales, Spaniards, „throwbacks‟ and fellas on the
beach in America, they joined us, ‟cause the other blokes got
out, jumped ship -- oh, terrible ship. Got a Legionnaire on,
fella out the Legion, North Africa, yeah -- he joined at Port
Said. We got two Spaniards on in Port Tewfik, the other end of
the Canal, gets to India they jump ship in India -- oh, it was a
terrible thing.” They went from Calcutta to Lourenço Marques
-- “it‟s Zaire now or something”, Mozambique. When they
went back to Port Said, three were jailed. “Crazy they were.”
They went to Naples at the latter end of war and these
“performers” sold cigarettes on the black market. They used
“service lira” then -- army money. “What a time!” The
informant got in no trouble. “I don‟t suppose I was that way
inclined.” Others fought, were insubordinate, and “gave cheek”
to the skipper, who could not hold the crew at all.(HMC 92-57,
TTC pp. 6-7)
Going through Customs homeward bound was a major problem for the
United States Merchant Marine as well, since they were “taken advantage of
and treated like dirt.” There were heavy “shakedowns” and confiscations, as
Customs men were profiteers. Seamen would break cigarettes in half before
turning them over to Customs, to avoid confiscations. The Customs officers
never bothered the U.S. Navy.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 4) A British rating similarly
felt that British Customs Officers were uncivil and unfair to the Merchant
805
. Criminal Investigation Department, these are English plain-clothes detectives.
. John B. Wilson, from a letter dated 19 March 1990. This is given verbatim,
with only his own corrections and one typographical error emended.
806
Navy during the war. They were terrible, “like the Gestapo”,(HMC 92-42, TTC p.
3)
and another described an incident when a shipmate tried to get out of Hull
docks with some smuggled tobacco. The docks in Hull were terrible, like
London, with lots of turnstiles and the like.(HMC 92-12, TTC p. 3) American
troops were placed aboard vessels passing through the Panama Canal. They
were very officious and watched the crews‟ every movement. It felt insulting,
as they were supposed to be allies, and the soldiers were aggressive. The
troops were actually guarding the Canal to assure that no one rammed the
gates, and it was probably sensible, but was very off-putting at the time.(HMC
92-40, TTC p. 7)
Several British informants noticed the extreme security measures
undertaken during wartime in North American, particularly U.S., ports. North
Americans themselves, however, were less impressed and more likely to react
with pranks than to take the situation seriously. Hank Adams recalled
encountering armed and officious female shore guards in one port. He and his
mates, while ashore, purchased a number of white mice from a pet shop and,
returning to the ship, loosed them on the women, inducing quite a panic, to
hear him tell of it.(HMC 90-14, TTC p. 2)
Sam Hakam, a young Radio Officer was impressed by his visit
to North Africa. Casablanca, exactly as it was on the cinema
screen, was full of refugees desperately trying to leave.
Although he did not meet Humphrey Bogart, he did see a black
American piano player called “Sam”. He also became involved
with a British agent named Maurice and a beautiful fifthcolumnist called “Jeannine”. The planned assignation worked
beautifully, and the female spy got the “doctored” information,
but Hakam felt he had been desperately miscast for the
part.(HMC 90-33, TTC p. 2)
But if, indeed, as seems to have been evidenced by much of the above
testimony, the general perception of the seafarer has traditionally been that of a
drunken rake and a “loser”, we must ask ourselves the question recently posed
by Archie Green: “How do losers function in a society caught up by worship of
competitive sports and entrepreneurial spirit?”807 And what of comparative
casualty figures and pay differential in wartime? How did the „loser‟ theory
apply to these?
807
. Green, 72.
B.
SHORESIDE ATTITUDES, PERCEPTIONS AND PREJUDICES
TOWARD SEAFARERS
This section deals with the exoteric part of Jansen‟s “Es-Ex Factor”808
Seafarers are often perceived by the general public, as well as by themselves,
as a singular breed, standing apart from society in general by virtue of a
number of determinants, and this perception, especially as it was coloured by
the considerations of wartime, established attitudes through and by which
landsmen viewed and treated their seagoing brethren during those years of
conflict. Here we see the seafarer from the viewpoint of the landsman‟s
community, and it has been interesting to attempt a comparison between the
attitudes of the British and the North American general public to the merchant
mariner during the course of the Second World War.
With the able assistance of heavily biased data disseminated by
American newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst, and radio
commentator, Walter Winchell, the reason for whose aversion to the
Mercantile Marine can only be hypothesised today, the American public
generally came to consider the merchant seafarer a profiteering, draft-dodging,
drunken, “4-F”809 lowlife. During the fieldwork, I attempted without success to
discover similar prejudices in the British Isles. The strongest remarks elicited,
even with mild coercion, were that some military personnel “looked down on”
merchant seamen when they met in public places, as the latter‟s lack of
uniforms implied they were not “fighting for King and Country”. There were,
indeed, times when the British merchant mariner was treated as shabbily as his
North American brother, but the full picture did not emerge until, on
808
. This is an abbreviation used by Jansen himself in his essay, as cited in the
introductory segment of this chapter.
809
. The reader is reminded that this is a designation instituted by United States
Draft Boards (conscription authorities) indicating that, in opposition to 1-A, or “ideal for
conscription”, these people were inadequate to serve in the Armed Forces by virtue of
weakness, ill health, physical or mental disability, moral turpitude, felony conviction, etc., and
therefore generally undesirable.
Wednesday, 12 January 1994, I viewed a TimeWatch programme on BBC2. In
this documentary segment, entitled “Forgotten Heroes”, a number of merchant
marine veterans of the Second World War told of their experiences and several
stated plainly that they had been insulted, treated with general discourtesy, and
even spat at in the United Kingdom by civilian landsmen as well as military
personnel who did not realise that they were indeed playing their part in the
war effort.810 It is, however, curious that a major portion of the historical
mistreatment of the British seafarer has been at the hands of the shipping
companies, rather than those of the general public.811
The image of the sailor as an undesirable extended even to the
uniformed services, as Joe Bennett, a Stoker, and Charles Fowler, a Leading
Telegraphist, both ex-Royal Navy, could attest:
Bennett -- “Aye, the uniform, you were some sort of an
outcast because you were wearing that uniform.” Fowler -“It‟s quite true, Joe, that you ... could fight for your country, but
you couldn‟t ... reap some of the benefits of it.” Bennett always
remembered the story told him by an old prewar sailor from
Lancashire -- he thought it was a joke, but it was perfectly true - the old-timer had been in China between the wars and a notice
outside the Raffles Hotel in Singapore read: “Sailors and dogs
not allowed in here.” Fowler had also heard this and both men
agreed it was gospel truth. Bennett -- “But nowadays, of course
it‟s all very democratic and so it should be! If you want in a
place and you‟re respectable....”(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 8)
Although they were immaculately turned out, many local hotels
near their home bases would not allow ratings to enter in
uniform. Three weeks before, they had been civilians and
could have patronised any of them, but with the Navy suit on,
they “probably could die for their country, but were suddenly
not allowed to drink with these people. And it‟s all wrong!
Mind you, it‟s altered now, I know, but that‟s what it was
then!”(HMC 92-65, TTC pp. 7-8)
Charles Fowler knew a Leading Coder who “had made a name
for himself in the entertainment world” and was “a bit of a
snob”. He wanted to go to a hotel in Edinburgh for an evening
meal, but the commissionaire refused to let him in, as he was in
naval rating uniform. He went round the corner to a phonebox,
rang up, gave his name, and said he would like a table for the
810
. “Forgotten Heroes”, TimeWatch, BBC2, 12 January 1994.
. This will be borne out by both my own interview data and the TimeWatch
material See also Chapter Three, Section C. -- “Conditions Aboard”.
811
evening meal -- “Yes of course”. He said he would be there in
half an hour. When he arrived, the commissionaire started to
chuck him out again. He said he had just booked a meal, and
thus was admitted.(HMC 92-65, TTC p. 8)
On V-E Day, one respondent‟s ship was in Edinburgh (or
Rosyth, actually). There were so many ships there that the Lord
Provost demanded some put to sea in the teeth of a howling
gale to avoid having too many sailors in town for the
celebrations. Even now this seaman feels aggrieved when he
sees pictures of people rejoicing in the streets on V-E Day.(HMC
92-20, TTC p. 3)
The most telling fieldwork datum on British behaviour came from an
interviewee who said, “The Merchant Navy were[sic] regarded as they always
had been -- staffed by a lot of scruffs and people of dubious character.”(HMC
92-24, TTC p. 3)
Another did not recognise prejudice against his occupation in
his home country, but acknowledged it in the U.S.:
One thing that did strike me when I was at various times in
the States was that the merchant seaman in the States is
considered a second-class citizen -- not in Europe. But why? I
can‟t understand why the difference, because ... after all -they‟ve got the same cultural background.(HMC 92-53, TTC p. 2)
The American merchant mariner had a somewhat unsavoury reputation
even before the Second World War. Just before the American Civil War, there
was a “lack of public support for seamen, since they were either foreigners or
the dregs of U.S. society. ...class conflict was mediated through the
application of harsh labor laws to control this dangerous class of men.”812
Even after the Civil War, merchant seamen were perceived by the vast
majority of the populace not to be fully integrated into society.813 This
marginality, inherent in an occupation such as seafaring, carries with it the
stigma of “deviance” in its most telling sociological sense -- nonconformity to
the rules which would fully integrate them into mainstream society.
Howard Becker, in his sociological works, notes that “the visible
deviant”, by trespassing against group norms, may act on society in the same
812
. Forsyth, 7. Emphases mine.
. Forsyth, 31.
813
way that traditional folklore characters such as evil spirits and demons have
done in the past, giving form to the unseen dangers which threaten community
stability, and marking the difference between inside and outside, representing
the contrasts through which society distinguishes identity and cohesion.814 In
studying such marginality or deviance, it is necessary to take the viewpoint
either of those who are labelled “deviant” or of those who have so labelled
them and, although a single researcher may investigate both viewpoints, it is
impossible to do so simultaneously. It is also inevitable that the researcher
will be accused of bias no matter which viewpoint is taken.
It is not a matter people take lightly. They feel either that
deviance is quite wrong and must be done away with or ... that
it is a thing to be encouraged -- an important corrective to the
conformity produced by modern society. The characters in the
sociological drama of deviance ... seem to be either heroes or
villains. We expose the depravity of deviants or we expose the
depravity of those who enforce rules on them. ... Both these
positions must be guarded against.815
Donald Willett, in a doctoral dissertation on the history of the National
Maritime Union, entitled his chapter on public relations, “Slackers and
Suckers”,816 and with good reason. According to Willett, this title was
“liberated” from a smear article in Time magazine for 21 December 1942, the
aim of which was apparently to malign the United States Merchant Marine and
to show it in the worst possible light. Seamen were generally viewed by the
American public as “outcasts and rootless drifters”,817 and the Chicago Tribune
blasted them as “draft dodgers, misfits, yellow, insubordinate and scum” and
said they were “no credit to the nation”, but the unions received sympathetic
mail in response to this attack not only from Admiral Land of the War
Shipping Administration, who called it “scurrilous and untrue ... a libel upon
seamen of our Merchant Marine”, but from a number of further dignitaries,
814
.
.
816
.
817
.
815
Becker (1964), 15.
Becker (1963), 172-3 and 175.
Willett, 157-173.
Willett, 157.
including Eleanor Roosevelt,818 and Time was censured for its uncharitable
article by a representative of the War Shipping Administration, who:
...wired a strong rebuke to the magazine for this “intolerable
insult to brave men volunteering for dangerous duty.” He
reminded Time that merchant seamen joined “a service which
had suffered a higher percentage of casualties to date than have
any of the armed services”... [and] ...further noted that “these
„draft dodgers‟ are volunteering for as tedious, as hazardous
and as essential a duty as there is in the whole war program.”
He finally reminded the magazine‟s publisher that “these
„profiteers‟ would make more money ... from the background of
their own homes with the comfort and pleasures of private life
than they will make on the long cold voyages to the Arctic or
running the gauntlet of „Bomb Alley.‟”819
Despite such support, Westbrook Pegler, a widely-read tabloid
journalist of the period, produced articles singling out the National Maritime
Union‟s President, Joe Curran, as a “draft dodger”, vilifying the “fabulous
earnings of the merchant sailor”, and stating flatly that too many seafarers “are
drunks and habitual trouble-makers who get away with it because they have
unions to protect them.”820 Perhaps it was the vision, admittedly myopic, yet
common in North America, of trade unions in general as hotbeds of
communism and fountainheads of “creeping socialism”821 that engendered this
attitude, as the seafaring unions, along with miners, longshoremen, and
teamsters, were often characterised as the most radically leftist and menacing
to democracy of the lot. Even some authors with a sympathy for the left
admitted that seafarers who demonstrated openly against fascism in the early
818
. Willett, 160-161, citing The Chicago Tribune, December 25, 1942 and the Pilot
January 1 and 15, 1943.
819
. Willett, 159-160, citing “Slackers and Suckers,” Time, January 11, 1942, 4.
Artie Grissom, one of the earlier informants in the present study (HMC 89-3, TTC p. 1) quoted
MacCaulay‟s rebuttal of the insults to merchant seamen virtually word for word during the
interview and is cited in the previous section for so doing. See below in this section for further
casualty figures.
820
. Willett, 163, citing Westbrook Pegler in the New York World Telegraph for
May and June of 1943.
821
. A popular phrase among United States conservatives in the 1940s and 1950s,
similar to the “scare” term “yellow peril” a decade later.
years of the conflict were often “regarded by their shipmates as “screwballs” or
part of the “Commie fringe”.822
Early in the war, Curran had asked the Navy to scale down its Armed
Guard crews and allow more trained merchant seamen to man the weapons, as
the British were doing. This suggestion caused the journalist Pegler to impugn
the loyalty of the merchant mariners.823 One wonders how the British public
would have reacted to a similarly scathing attack on the patriotism of their own
Merchant Navy, even in the light of the TimeWatch information.
Willett cites no fewer than six major confrontations between national
media and the NMU, a lone example of the several American trade unions
which represented seafarers. Multiply this by the number of representative
bodies and add to it the lesser local newspapers; take into account the
extensive, vitriolic and carefully directed attacks of the larger media moguls;
and you begin to realise that the American seaman had more than the
firepower of the Axis and Japan to fear. He had a fearsome enemy
undermining his reputation on the home front as well.
The British public, in contrast, often imagined the merchant seafarer a
selfless hero, who would sail bravely, unarmed, through enemy-infested seas,
risking injury and death, to deliver the necessities (and sometimes the little
luxuries) of life to his countrymen, unmindful of his own well-being.(HMC 9054, TTC p. 2; HMC 90-57, TTC p. 1)824
The slogan “Britain delivers the Goods”
was as idealistic under the circumstances as it was laconic. Any discourtesy
suffered by the British merchant seaman at the hands of his shoreside
822
. Carse, The Long Haul, 15. It is notable that one local representative of a
merchant marine veterans‟ organisation, pressed me to investigate the presence and activities
of “commies” aboard in the wartime convoys.
823
. Willett, 164.
. Cf. also Lane, Merchant Seamen‟s War, 2-9.
824
countrymen was due almost entirely to the fact that, without a uniform, he was
not easily recognisable as a hero.
“Well as far as I know everybody looked up to them,
especially during the war, because they were our lifeline. And
they did a wonderful job... We depended on them for ... an
awful lot of food and all our arms and ammunition, things like
that.” “...[T]his country has always been very proud of its
Royal Navy and its Merchant Navy” which were necessary,
because the British were an island people with a far-flung
empire and had to keep their lines open, “so thank heavens they
had a wonderful Navy to do it”(HMC 91-1, TTC p. 4)
If the public were not sufficiently impressed during the war by their
own knowledge or the image portrayed by the news media, H.M. Stationery
Office, toward the end of the war, printed Merchantmen at War and British
Coasters,825 each a beautifully printed and illustrated booklet priced at a little
over a shilling. Each maintained it was “The Official Story” of the vessels and
men it chronicled, and there can have been no more effective propaganda on
behalf of the Merchant Service. America‟s parallel efforts were limited to
such fictive media as comic books and Hollywood films.826 The difference
between a comic book and a government publication in terms of credibility
must be apparent to even the most naive observer.
The Canadian public, more pragmatic than either the Americans or the
British, apparently saw aspects of both extremes, or at least so the research
would lead one to believe. Fieldwork data from Nova Scotia and
Newfoundland generally indicate the attitude toward the merchant seaman
depended on whether one was influenced more by British roots or American
proximity. Nevertheless, it is an incontrovertible fact that the American,
British, and Canadian Legions all expended great effort to keep the merchant
seaman out of their ranks on the grounds that he was not a “serviceman.”(HMC
825
. Both cited previously.
. “Heroes in Dungarees”, the Comic Cavalcade publication of the
NMU and the Humphrey Bogart/William Bendix film, Action in the North
Atlantic have both been cited previously
826
90-38 ff.; HMC 90-69; HMC 90-71; HMC 92-48, TTC p. 8)827
The degree of this
restrictive attitude varied between individual Legion posts. A garrulous
British respondent was rejected by one post and accepted by another, although
he said: “You have to watch out for the Legion fellows, especially the RN and
Army blokes.”(HMC 92-48, TTC p. 8) This prejudice was likewise endorsed by
Willett:
American merchant seamen came home to no hero‟s
welcome, no victory parade and no honourable discharge
button. The American Legion denied them membership and
the government refused to bury them at sea in an American
flag. Many cities even passed ordinances barring the inclusion
of slain merchant seamen on local war memorials. And their
government refused to include them in the G.I, Bill of Rights
and the unemployment compensation sections of the Social
Security Act.828
Regarding monuments, a Merseyside respondent complained:
And y‟know there was 65,000 people that you lost, y‟know,
seamen. And, ... it upsets me like there‟s no, ... monument.
Like this is a great port of Liverpool -- there‟s not a monument
here for it at all. There is for the Royal Navy and a few seamen
who ... served in with the Royal Naval ships....(HMC 92-56, TTC
p. 1)829
Because merchant seafarers had no uniform and were civilians, they
were unwelcome at USO or Red Cross Centre.(HMC 90-29, TTC p. 1)830 But the
lack of uniform could be a protective device as well. If people had anything
against merchant mariners they would not recognise them, as they wore
civilian clothes and went to their own clubs, but also often utilised Royal
827
. This particular subject was not specifically searched at the time I was doing the
Tape Tables of Contents for the 1989-1990 fieldwork, so the specific sources cannot be cited
at present. Nonetheless it was discussed, and the Willett citation, below, should verify that the
situation did, in fact, exist..
828
. Willett, 172, citing Dean Jennings, “Heroes Without Privileges,” Coronet
(September, 1945), 16-21; interview, Capt. Donald F. Willett by Donald Willett, Texas A. and
M. University Oral History Collection. [Emphasis mine.] Rhode Island was the only state that
gave returning merchant seamen a bonus.
829
. Presumably by the latter, he meant T124 and T124X sailors. A Liverpool
monument for merchant seafarers now exists. I visited it in 1993, near the Liver Building and
the Liverpool landing stage for the “ferry ‟cross the Mersey”.
830
. See below for a quote from Willett on this subject.
Canadian Navy facilities.. Dick Aldhelm-White never heard that they got into
much trouble.(HMC 90-70, TTC p. 3)
Merchant marine officers had an optional uniform, but usually only
wore the hat for identification aboard.831 Most Cadets had uniforms, but the
only uniform for any ratings, eventually issued by the U.S.M.S. training
facilities, was only worn under protest. It was similar to both U.S. Navy and
Coast Guard uniforms, but was trimmed in red, and “looked like a Russian
sailor”. Some were actually mistaken for Russians by people they met. Some
men also contrived “high-pressure dress uniforms” to wear in an effort to
impress people. One man wore his to visit his wife at her workplace and she
did not recognise him. You were allowed to wear anything, as there was no
official uniform once you were out of the school.(HMC 90-74, TTC p. 7)
The British merchant seaman would not tolerate a uniform, so he was
given a small silver “buttonhole” badge832 to be worn on his lapel or on his
knitted watch cap to signify that he was a merchant mariner:
Americans put their Merchant Navy onto a sort of Coast
Guard thing during the war. They tried it here, but it wouldn‟t
work. Merchant seamen wouldn‟t have it, wouldn‟t wear
uniforms. All they‟d wear was the badge.”(HMC 92-45, TTC p. 2)
Many British seafarers remember the badges being issued so they
might avoid civilian abuse, and wore (sometimes still wear it) with as much
pride as if it had been a medal.(HMC 92-22, TTC p. 3)
“‟Cause in the United Kingdom, somebody walkin‟ around
in civilian clothes, especially when the war had been on for a
few years, they‟d look on you and more or less presume that
you should be in the [Forces], because it was only apparent if
you wore that kind of uniform. Now the only identification that
831
. A Chief Engineer was once mistaken for an usher at Radio City Music Hall
while wearing his Merchant Service uniform.(HMC 90-30, TTC p. 3)
832
. Tony Lane describes the badge in endnote 22 of Chapter 2 in
Merchant Seamen‟s War, p. 35. “The badge was in the form of a length of
rope tied in a sailor‟s knot encircling the letters MN and surmounted by a
crown.” The Canadian badge is similar, but bears the word CANADA along
the arc of the rope oval below the crown.
merchant seamen had, in civilian clothes...” was the little silver
badge.833 “Now that was the only identification that a rating in
the Merchant Navy had. And you could always prove that it
was yours, because in your discharge book....” The badge could
only be issued once and if lost was never re-issued. This
stopped people from claiming to be merchant seamen when
they were not. “Because ... there were many copies ... various
colours and metals and enamelled over, but that is the official
issue badge, the little silver one.”(HMC 92-50, TTC p. 7)
Shoreside attitudes were like everything else. Maybe a bit
cynical now, but.... “As you know, ... we were the poor
relations ... the seamen were, ... and ... when this war broke out
... they gave you a little tab, a Merchant Navy badge, y‟know,
and „our heroes‟ and all this lot ... but as soon as the war was
over it all went by the board again y‟know and now we‟ve
practically got no merchant fleet at all.(HMC 92-56, TTC p. 1)
It is somewhat ironic that the British Merchant seaman after the close
of the First World War was considered part of the “Services”; that the U.S.
Merchant Marine veteran has recently been accorded “Veteran‟s” status (after
a long and arduous struggle against almost overwhelming governmental
opposition),834 but that the Canadian Merchant Mariner was still at the time of
the fieldwork on which this study is based, denied the benefits so long overdue
and so richly deserved by those who expended their efforts, their energies,
their healths, and even their lives to “deliver the goods.”835
833
. He showed me his own, which he has had since the day it was issued. It was
still on the lapel of his best suit. [At the Merseyside Maritime Museum, I purchased two
replica badges, one of which I gave my stepfather as a gift, and the other of which I wear
proudly on a knitted watch cap in winter.] He also displayed the pages in his discharge book
where it showed the badge was issued and where he was issued with his first ribbon of the war,
the “1939-43 Star” known as “The Atlantic Star” and also where he had become eligible for
his AB‟s papers under the Merchant Shipping Act.
834
. One man felt he had been cheated of compensation for both retirement and
hearing loss, as with merchant marine, Army, and Army Reserve time, he should be entitled to
something.(HMC 90-44, TTC p. 4) Another felt the educational opportunities presented by
the “G.I. Bill of Rights” would have eclipsed any pay differential.(HMC 90-48, TTC p. 1)
And yet a third, with severe health problems, was told on achieving veterans‟ status that he had
no hospitalisation benefits and all he could get was a loan to buy a house. He already had a
house.(HMC 90-62, TTC p. 2)
835
. “Even to this day the Canadian government hasn‟t recognised the Merchant
Service as full-fledged veterans.”(HMC 91-11, TTC p. 2) The Bill to give Canadian merchant
seamen veterans‟ benefits was scheduled to be introduced in the House the day before the
above interview [22/X-1991]. Ironically, the first place I saw the merchant seafarer included
on a war memorial monument was in St.